


HAZE: NOVIS

by anonemones



Series: HAZE [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Actual Fighting, Anxiety Attacks, Arguing, Brotherly Bonding, Character Death, Dr. Gaster is actually two brothers just trying to get by, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Experimentation, Gaster is two different people, Gen, Gender-Neutral Frisk, I think I covered all the tags, Illegal Activities, Mental Instability, Multiple Realities, Multiverse, Non-Verbal Frisk, POV Multiple, Panic Attacks, Play Fighting, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Rewrite, Science Bros, Science Experiments, Scientist W. D. Gaster, Selectively Mute Frisk, Spoilers - Undertale Pacifist Route, The Void, Unhealthy Relationships, Verbal Abuse, Violence, W. D. Gaster is not related to Skelebros, idk - Freeform, mostly the boys' povs tho, reupload, unstable reality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-18 23:03:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10626999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonemones/pseuds/anonemones
Summary: (READ NOTES)After a year of living on the surface, monsters and humans have gotten along well, with (mostly) everyone adjusting to the many changes without much trouble. However, events take a strange turn when Sans and Papyrus--both of whom have been acting unlike themselves--go missing, supposedly without a trace. In their place are two monsters who go by the names of Wingdings and Aster, twins, claiming to be the lost Royal Scientist. Everyone is thrown for a loop, especially as nobody remembers a Wingdings or Aster--or, as they claim to be, "Dr. Gaster"--nor do they remember a Royal Scientist before Alphys. And with Sans and Papyrus missing, things don't look good for either of the boys.As their friends search for the missing skeletons, Wingdings and Aster work together to uncover what's happened while they were gone, as well as what might've caused everyone to forget them in the first place. But, trouble lurks within the shadows, as the Void closes in on them once again--refusing to let go of what belongs to it. And unfortunately, the Void is not the only thing after the boys' lives.





	1. Pop Goes the Weasel

_Ding, ding!_

A bell rang throughout the small shop, causing Gerson to look up from the counter, blinking back into reality with a yawn.

The day had been slow; business not like it used to be, he supposed. Back in the Underground, monsters would come in on occasion in buy something, maybe strike up a conversation or two, but with all of the excitement of being free, such occurrences were few and far between.

And, even with the curiosity from the humans, not many came around to check his wares. It was...disheartening.

But, when he caught sight of the people walking in, he couldn't help but offer a smile. There were some customers he just couldn't forget, after all.

"Undyne!" He laughed, leaning forward as she ran over to the counter, the whole building shaking at her thundering steps. "Long time, no see! How've you been?"

"Hey, Gerson!" Undyne slammed her hands down on the counter, the old turtle not batting an eye. He'd come accustomed to her outbursts long ago. "I've been alright! Managed to keep my guard job, in case you haven't heard--turns out Asgore's ex is worried about Frisk's safety, so I get to protect the lil' punk!"

"Ah," Gerson nodded, a smile fixed upon his face. Undyne's energetic nature turned out to be contagious. "Aha--I'm glad! You seemed upset when Asgore announced the Guard wasn't necessary anymore, considerin' there wasn't gonna be a war..."

" _Ugh_ , don't remind me! I'm still recovering from the disappointment...though, humans aren't that bad. I guess." Undyne glanced over her shoulder, frowning at the other two in the shop--one watching from the corner of his eye as he looked at the shelves, the other looking ready to jump over and crush the turtle in a hug, which wouldn't surprise her any. "Hey, Papyrus! Why don'tcha get over here, yeah? You're the one with the list, after all..."

The skeleton in question turned in her direction, smiling broadly. He reached her in two strides, colliding into the fish-woman's shoulder, who grunted at the sudden weight pushing down on her. Straightening himself, Papyrus held out the list, bouncing on his heels--almost hitting his skull on the ceiling in the process.

"Hello, Mr. Gerson!" he greeted, voice booming. "Queen Toriel requested we get these things for her--something about a party, I think? To celebrate how long we've all been Aboveground!"

The last member of the group--Papyrus' brother, Sans--reached out for something on one of the shelves, listening in on their conversation in the background. Humming an odd tune to himself, his fixed grin rose, but not enough to cause any alarm, if the others were even paying attention to him to begin with.

"Ah, a party, you say? Let me see, here..." Gerson took the list and looked it over, humming. After a moment, he said, "My, my, this is quite the order! But I think I can manage--hold on, let me just--"

_BOOM!_

Everything in the room turned blue in an instant.

Sans, who'd been looking over the bulging item in his hands while listening to the old monster talk, had no more than read the label before promptly dropping it, grin wider than ever. The thing had exploded and now covered the whole shop in a gooey, glowing blue substance—most likely magic from Waterfall, which Gerson was known to horde after moving Aboveground. One couldn't just let go of their roots—especially somebody like Gerson.

Everyone at the counter stood in stunned silence, dusted with blue residue, blinking at the small skeleton, who now stood doubled over, wheezing. Strangely enough, Gerson himself wasn't mad—

" _Sans_!"

\--it was his brother he had to worry about.

The comedian coughed, laughing between wheezes. "I didn't expect it to go all over the place like that," he said, before sobering up. He walked over to the counter with a shrug, even daring to stand next to the taller, shaking skeleton. "Here, Gerson--for the experience."

He dropped some gold on the counter--enough to pay for the damage and the item he'd ultimately set off.

"Brother, that was so _irresponsible_! Why would you even _do_ something like that?" Papyrus demanded over Undyne's barking laugh, finally snapping out of her shock. The taller skeleton tapped his foot on the floor, impatient and irritated.

Sans's smile fell slightly, though he covered it up with a wink. "Aw, c'mon, bro," he chuckled, "don't be so _blue_. 'S just a prank--though, uh, if you don't want that to happen on a daily basis, you _might_ want to put that stuff on a higher shelf, G. Little ones could get to it."

This coming from someone who was still only as tall as a small child.

"I might as well," Gerson replied, looking around. Now that he saw the damage, he could feel the itch of annoyance clawing at his soul, simply from the ruined merchandise. He swallowed it down, though, as there was no sense in getting angry over it. "At least I know now that those are bit too low for my liking--can't have children messin' with stuff like that, no sir-ee!"

The old man whistled and laughed away what was left of his anger.

Sans's grin was back. Laughter always helped him when in between a rock and a hard place. "Heh--glad I could help, G."

"Sans, you _literally_ threw a color bomb on the floor," his brother sighed, his tone slipping into something playful. His irritation still gnawed at the back of his mind, but he ignored it.

"Maybe I did--still managed to _color_ your mood, didn't I?"

Papyrus groaned. "Sans, this is not the time for puns--"

"Am I not hittin' your _funny bone_ , bro?"

The taller of the two gave the other _the Look_ ; the telltale sign that one more wrong move and the other's wrath would be unleashed.

Sans ignored the sign with ease, sticking his tongue out--and the chase began.

" _Sans_ ," Papyrus ground out, lunging forward.

Sans dodged and ran out the door, his laughter following suit. He ran down the street and around the corner--people watching all the while, both monsters and humans alike, amused at the morning show playing out before them. It didn't matter the race-- _everyone_ knew the skeleton brothers, and it was often that people could watch the two's relationship play out almost like some kind of never-ending sitcom.

Papyrus wasn't far behind Sans; his strides longer but speed slower than his brother's. Even with his annoyance, he couldn't help but let out his trademark "Nyeh heh heh!" as he ran.

However, during the chase, neither of them found it odd that the lazy skeleton was running, let alone doing so much as anything at all.

Still standing in Gerson's doorway, Undyne held the groceries in her hand, deciding that the blue would wash out before the party. She let out a groan, turning to her old-time friend. "I should probably go catch those two before they start trouble," she said.

Gerson chuckled. "Like you don't cause trouble yourself, young lady?" He teased.

Undyne laughed. "Of course! But I'm not about to let them go on without me--hey, you two! Wait up!"

And off she went, running around bystanders and around the bend to catch up to her friends.

Gerson rolled his eyes, glancing back into his shop with a sigh. "Well," he said, voice cracking from age, "I guess I should work on cleanin' up this mess...I swear, this generation will be the end of me."

And yet he smiled as he said it, walking back into the shop with a content stride—

_Ding, ding!_

***

Two blocks and a near-death experience later, Sans found himself doubled-over like before, wheezing like he had been in the shop, but this time from exhaustion rather than his poor sense of humor getting the better of him. His face was tinted blue, sweat dripping from his skull, his breaths shallow. He felt like he'd just ran a marathon.

His brother stood in front of him, his arms crossed across his chest. He fought back a grin as he watched his lazy brother try to catch his breath again.

Undyne herself didn't fare much better, having to hide her smile behind her hand.

"Well," Papyrus spoke, bending down and picking Sans up around the waist, slinging him over his shoulder with ease. "I hope you've learned your lesson, brother."

"Hah," Sans panted, his breathing just barely under his control as he dismissed the other with a wave, "I'll...get back to ya on that...in about three hours."

"Sans, you better not pull something at the party," Undyne interrupted him, dropping her hand. Her smile turned sharp. "Because if you do, I'll make sure you'll regret it."

"Uh-huh. I'm shakin'...alllll the way down t' the marrow."

He heard his brother grind his teeth together, failing to bite back his groan. "That one was terrible," Papyrus informed him, walking ahead of Undyne, who adjusted her hold on their groceries. "Seriously, though, Sans--tone it down for tonight. _Please_. Queen Toriel is expecting a lot from us; she doesn't want the human attendees to think we're a bad influence."

"If anything, Tori'll join in," Sans huffed, staring behind them. His smile pulled down into a frown when he thought he saw something--a shadow, or a person, perhaps--shifting into an alley in-between the passing buildings. He blinked, and the brief feeling of confusion was gone. "...'Sides, everyone needs a good laugh sometimes."

"Maybe, but what they don't need is the house exploding with one of those color things!" Papyrus broke off with a pause, his pace slowing down. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, expression clearing as though he'd remembered something. "Oh, yes, by the way--you didn't take any of those while we were in there, did you?"

"No," Sans's gaze shifted slightly right, smile returning.

"...I know that tone of voice, Sans. Where is it?"

"Ah, c'mon, Pap--don't you trust me?"

"Not particularly," Papyrus muttered, though a grin threatened to split his skull in two. "If you _do_ happen to have any of those...bomb, things--promise you won't use them."

"Pap," Sans whined, "you _know_ I hate making promises..."

"I know. But I also know you keep them when you make them."

There it was again--running in front of--no, through--a car driving down the road. Sans swore he saw a cloak flap in the wind, but when he blinked, it vanished from sight, the skeleton's eyes widening. He didn't respond.

"...Ugh, _fine_! Don't promise--just, don't _do_ it, okay?" Papyrus demanded.

"...Huh?" Sans blinked and turned to look at the back of his brother's skull, before catching Undyne's death glare, forever laced with a threat if he didn't answer with an affirmative. "...Oh. Uh, sure, bro."

"Good!" As always, the answer pleased the other; with an added bounce to his step, Papyrus hummed, rattling off his next words as though he were reading from a script. "Now, we should really be heading home; there's a lot to do!" And, with an added bite, "And Sans, you _are_ going to help. No if, ands, or buts about it."

Sans stared at the sidewalk stretching on and on in front of them--distracted, again and again, by the same shape of darkness lurking in the distance. Not once could he put his finger on why it seemed so familiar...

"...Y-Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, bro."

Papyrus hesitated at his brother's response, frowning. His eyes shifted to catch Undyne's, worry and confusion twisting in his soul, before he saw something...strange. Like a figure of sorts, though blurry and disfigured, like it wasn't there at all.

Before he could grasp what the mass was, it had already disappeared.

Undyne looked between the two skeletons, seeing their glazed, distant eyelights, before turning to their surroundings, searching for whatever the hell was distracting them so much. She came up empty-handed.

She grabbed Papyrus's shoulder, shaking him and asking, "...Papyrus?"

He snapped out of his trance, meeting Undyne's gaze. "Yes, Undyne?" He asked.

"You alright, man? You zoned out." She frowned, seeing that same, distant look on the smaller skeleton's face again, who was focused on something behind them. No matter how much she followed his gaze, she never found anything out of the ordinary. "You sure you're up for this party thing?"

Papyrus's words came out rushed, answering all too quickly as he straightened his posture, trying to come off as confident. "Of _course_ I am!" The skeleton said with newfound resolve, though he couldn't shake the nervous feeling digging into his ribs. "I'm the Great Papyrus, after all--I can handle anything! Especially parties; I am the _master_ of party-planning and organizing!"

Undyne snorted, shaking her head. "Bet I could do better," she said, jumping in front of him. "In fact, I bet I could beat you to the house!"

"I bet you couldn't!" Papyrus dared, rocking back on his heels, readying himself for another jog.

"Oh, yes I _can_ \--last one to the house is a rotting corpse!"

Undyne took a flying leap and was gone, running ahead and whooping, arms raised and groceries threatening to fall from her fist.

"Nyeh--I'll make you eat those words!"

Adjusting his hold on his brother, Papyrus ran after her, and for the second time people watched the antics of the skeletons and the fish-woman play out, some even shouting a joking cheer.

But, despite all the noise and movement, Sans hadn't moved an inch, gaze locked on something charging after them. He couldn't even scream, eye sockets locked in wide, terrorized circles.

The shadow barreled into them--or through them, rather, disappearing upon making contact—absorbing itself right into the smaller skeleton's petrified frame.

Sans tightened his hold on his brother's back, hands glowing with magic.

Purple magic.

 _What the hell's wrong with me today?_ He wondered, refusing to let go. _That color bomb stuff didn't do anything to my head, did it...?_

He kept his eyes trained on the passing crowd, but the shadow never did reappear. At the same time, he had to bite back on the sudden waves of emotions flooding his system, a nagging feeling that something dreadful was going to happen at the party leaving a heavy weight on his chest.

His brother stayed oblivious to his internal battle of emotions.

He decided it was better that it stayed that way.

***

_A place known only for its static, unstable nature opened itself up to two figures splayed out on the ground, miserable and confused. This opening revealed to them a world of color and laughter, promising new memories and experiences unlike those they'd ever known, with people who spread love, happiness and kindness. Things that had eluded them for_ _years _.__

_They saw their chance—this chance of achieving something better than the worthless prison they called "home"--and took it, never the wiser._

_For in this place known only for static and darkness, an echo of a memory played out in words:_

_"I won't lose you."_

_"I won't leave you."_

_" **Never again.** "_


	2. Pop Goes the Weasel

He couldn’t believe he’d ever agreed to this.

“Kid, be careful,” he reprimanded Frisk for the fifth time, grabbing the back of their shirt to keep them from falling off the step ladder.

The two were in charge of decorations, which meant putting up the banners, blowing up the balloons--sometimes literally, just for the shits and giggles. The kid liked it, so Sans didn’t mind the lectures he got from the Queen and his brother after the fact. They also had all of these streamers and ribbons they had to put up that made the skeleton want to throw up his nonexistent guts.

 _Why_ had he agreed to this?

Frisk finished tying the banner that read “ _Here’s to One Year on the Surface_ ” up at the front of the living room, turning to the skeleton to give him a thumbs up. ‘ _Finished,_ ’ they signed.

“Thank _Christ_.” At the look he was given, Sans shrugged. “Hey, don’t get me all _tongue-tied_ , kid. I’m just…” He hesitated. For once, he couldn’t think of a pun. “...I’m tired.”

‘ _Break?_ ’

“ _Now_ we’re talkin’.” Sans snorted, stretching. His spine popped as he did, Frisk shuddering at the sound. Sans chuckled at their reaction. “Sorry, kiddo. Gotta get it out, though--it’s uncomfortable.”

‘ _Gross,_ ’ Frisk responded, sticking their tongue out at the skeleton and shaking their head.

He laughed. “ _You’re_ gross. I mean, look at ya, with all that skin and muscle. Ew.”

‘ _Better than being_ spineless _._ ’ Frisk couldn’t fight back their grin.

Sans chuckled. “Oh _God_ , Tori’s rubbin’ off on you,” he said. “Or maybe I am.”

‘ _Both._ ’

“Good.”

Sans flopped down on the couch, oblivious to the party-favors he’d almost crushed. Boss monster really went all-out when it came to parties, he was starting to learn. “ _Man_ , I’m exhausted...wonder if now would be a good time to take a nap.”

“Don’t you dare, lazybones,” he could hear from the kitchen, Toriel peeking out from around the corner to shoot him a glare, though playful in nature. “There’s still a lot to do and we can’t afford any slackers!”

“It’ll be a quick one,” he lied, and everyone present knew he was. Frisk especially gave him their best attempt of _the Look_ , which made him a bit uneasy due to the strong resemblance it had to his brother’s iteration, “Like a catnap…”

“A cat can sleep the day away and call it a ‘catnap’.”

“Sounds like a good excuse to me.”

“Sans!” Toriel shook her head, chuckling. “You can’t sit there and tell me you’re a cat.”

“Meow.”

“ _Sans_!”

The skeleton chuckled. “Alright, alright,” he held up his hands, “I’ll get up.”

“Good!”

“In a few minutes.”

Toriel sighed and shook her head again, but fell silent and returned to her baking. Probably one of her pies, from the smell of it.

Sans checked the time as Frisk settled down next to him, the child humming a familiar tune to themselves. _Only an hour left,_ he sighed, leaning back. _Heh...might as well catch some sleep while I still can._

And, after the thought crossed his mind, he blacked out.

 

***

 

“H-Hey, Papyrus?”

The skeleton glanced up from his cooking, catching Alphys’ eye. “Yes, Alphys?” He asked, his tone as cheery as always.

“D-Do you...um...d-do you, ah…” she couldn’t seem to find her words, eyes looking left, right, left, right. Avoiding his gaze as soon as they met. “W-Well, I was thinking, and...I-I promised Mettaton’s c-cousin I’d play h-his tunes, b-because people seem to really l-like them...a-and, um, well…”

Papyrus waited, smile never wavering.

“...I-I lost the tracks.”

…And then it did. His smile dropped, Papyrus’s expression clouded as he stepped forward. “...Oh?”

“I-I misplaced them while helping Un-Undyne with g-giving out the-the invitations a few days a-ago!” Alphys sputtered, hands flying up in the air, glasses going askew. “I-I don’t...I-I don’t know where--”

“Not to worry, Alphys!” Papyrus interrupted before her panic could take over. He could already see the creeping self-loathing cross her features, and that was something he couldn’t allow. “I will help you find the Spooktunes! But, ah--the pasta...where’s Undyne? Maybe she could take over for me.”

Alphys played with her hands, rubbing them together. “A-Ahm...I think she’s outside? Helping with, um...d-dinner. Asgore’s out there, t-too, so--”

“Alright! I’ll go get her--um, Queen Toriel? Could you watch this for me?” Papyrus said, gesturing to the pot of spaghetti on the stove.

Toriel maneuvered around the skeleton, Papyrus stepping away from the stove so she could pull out her pie. “Of course, Papyrus,” she told him, offering a warm smile. “Hurry back, though; the guests will be arriving soon!”

“Yes, your Majesty--”

“It’s Toriel,” the ex-Queen chided, eyes twinkling in spite of herself.

“Yes, Queen Toriel!”

That would be the best she’d get from him.

Alphys led the skeleton into the living room and out the back door, Papyrus catching a glance of his brother’s sleeping form as he walked past the couch. “Lazybones,” he mumbled to himself, shaking his head. _Leave it to my brother…_

He couldn’t help but catch sight of something shifting in the corner as he walked onto the patio, nor could he ignore the cold seeping into his spine. His footsteps fell a tad heavier as he made his way to Undyne, smile uneven.

“Hello, Undyne!” He greeted with a wave, standing behind Alphys, who still wouldn’t stop wringing her hands. “Alphys and I have something to do--I need you to watch my cooking for me while I’m gone.”

Undyne turned from the grill and her conversation with Asgore, grinning at the sight of them. “Oh, yeah?” She said, stepping forward.

For a second, Papyrus saw someone else standing before him--someone he didn’t recognize. Dressed in armor and scarred beyond belief, yet resembling the fish monster almost down to the bone, if it weren’t for the image being male...

He blinked several times to will the vision away.

“... _Papyrus_.”

The skeleton shook his head. “S-Sorry, what were you saying?” He asked, getting a few confused and worried stares sent his way.

“Are you feelin’ alright, bud? You’ve been acting weird since we got back from Gerson’s,” Undyne asked, tone demanding, arms crossed over her chest.

Papyrus didn’t meet her eyes. “I-I’m fine! Just...tired?” He looked to Alphys for help, but found none. “I...I’m not sure. But I’m sure it will pass!”

“Maybe you should join your brother for his ‘catnap,’” Asgore said suddenly, glancing over his shoulder. “I overheard Toriel and him shouting at each other. It might do you some good--you never know.”

“Plus, it’s not like you sleep anyway...even _if_ it’s for the weak, you’re not invincible, Papyrus. Even people as great as yourself need sleep,” Undyne agreed, slapping a hand on the skeleton’s shoulder, almost knocking him over.

“Maybe…” Papyrus shook his head, dismissing the thought. “But, enough talk! I still have to help Alphys with her...thing. And you need to help me cook!”

As he said this, he poked Undyne in the ribs, earning a shove in return. He managed to catch himself before he toppled over, snickering.

“Alright, nerd,” Undyne winked, walking into the house. “And seriously, get some sleep! You need it!”

“W-We should...p-probably start in my o-office,” Alphys said, tapping her thumbs together. “That’s wh-where I had them last-t…”

“Very well then! Onward, Dr. Alphys.”

Alphys gave him an odd look, but did as he said, turning to leave before she could notice the shift in his pupils, orange poisoning to red--the lighting of the sun made sure of it.

 

***

 

_There was thrumming in his mind--the pulsing of a life that had decayed, long ago. He tried to ignore it, to drown it out, but it came back at full force every time he did, stubborn in nature. With each pulse, he felt himself slip further and further into darkness, heard his screaming get softer and softer…_

_Until Sans was nowhere at all._

_The thrumming stilled…_

_…and replaced itself with static._

 

***

 

“...Sans?”

Sans jolted up, purple dancing in his eye for a split second, an attack manifesting behind him. “Wh--”

“Hey, _hey_. Relax.”

The person in front of him was Toriel, her expression soft and concerned. Frisk hovered behind her shoulder, frowning, wringing their hands together. The ex-Queen sat kneeling before him--amusing, he thought, considering her past occupation--hand still on his shoulder. They both looked incredibly worried…why, he had no idea.

“...Sorry.” He waved a hand, dismissing the attack. Still, it took some time for the purple to drain from his eye. “I-I, uh, had...quite the dream.”

“I can see this.” Toriel hummed, standing and letting go of the skeleton’s shoulder. “Well, it’s a good thing I woke you up, then. Guests are starting to arrive; it would be best for you to get proactive. Knowing some of the participants--” meaning the canine unit that had once belonged to the Royal guard, “--there’ll be some furniture that, ah...won’t go unscathed.”

Sans shuddered, “Oh, jeez--thanks.” He hesitated, looking around. Music played from the speakers set up in the corners of the room--Spooktunes, he recognized--not even a moment later finding Alphys leaning against the speaker in such a way he had to bite back a laugh. “So, uh, Queen Toriel--”

“Queen?” Toriel repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Sans, I thought I told you to drop the formalities.”

“...Did I say queen?” Sans turned back to her, eyes narrowing. “Yeesh, something’s up with me today...hey, have you seen, er, Gaster, today? I have something I need to--”

“Sans, who’s Gaster?” With a frown, Toriel placed a hand to the skeleton’s skull, finding it burning. “Oh, my--you have a fever--are you sure you’re feeling up to this? You could always go upstairs and rest; you don’t have to stay around for the party, if you’re not feeling up to it.”

“Huh? Oh--yeah, yeah. I’m fine…” Sans trailed off, looking down. His expression twisted into something the old woman couldn’t read. “...I need to go dig up some charts.”

“What--”

The short skeleton shoved past her, heading for the front door.

Toriel and Frisk watched him go, exchanging a look.

“...Strange,” Frisk heard their mother say, the child frowning at the word.

As their mother tried to understand what the skeleton had been talking about, Frisk followed after their skeletal friend without her noticing their absence, determination fueling their soul.

Strange, indeed.

 

***

 

Alphys stepped into the hallway, finding Papyrus standing in the same place she’d left him as--just in the doorway of her office, stock-still. However, having been distracted in mind, she hadn’t immediately noticed him. “H-Hey, thanks again for, ah, h-helping me out...y-you really saved my ski--P-Papyrus?! Papyrus, oh my _God_ , your skull is cracked open--”

“Calm down.”

Alphys stopped cold, eyes widening at the tone. Cold, detached--it rang a bell. One that she didn’t like to hear. “P...Papyrus--”

“I’m fine.” He reassured her. And yet, when he turned to look at her, it was like he was looking at air. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Y-You...you…”

“Have you seen Dr.--” Alphys jumped at the sound of static, caught completely off guard, “--lately? I need to set up a conference with them and the team.”

“A-Ah...y-you’re not making any sense, P-Pap--”

His eyes narrowed darkly, glaring down at the lizard monster. “ _Then I’ll do it myself._ ”

Stunned into silence, Alphys watched him storm past her and towards the front door, slamming it behind him only to have it open a moment later, revealing a very confused Burgerpants, who glanced over his shoulder with a scoff.

“What’s _his_ problem?”

Alphys didn’t know the answer to that.

 

***

 

 _Step, step, step_ \--leaves crunched underfoot as he made his way through the forest, along with the slipping conscious of the taller skeleton, still struggling to make sense of what was left of his mind.

 _Step, step, step_ \--the forest slowly dyed itself with red magic, his magic spiraling further and further out of control.

 _Step, step, step_ —

“Hey, _dumbass_.”

Papyrus turned, at the voice--spotting it’s source, but not seeing the person actually speaking. His cold expression turned hard. “That was crude,” he sighed, crossing his arms. “What do you want?”

“How about an explanation as to why you’re here right now?” His brother’s teeth clenched, throwing his arms in the air. His left eye glowed purple, brighter and brighter as his aggravation grew. “Thought we agreed on _me_ playin’ doctor, yeah?”

“You slept in. _Someone_ had to get to work on time.”

“And you didn’t wake me up? You know I sleep through my alarms!”

“I didn’t see a reason to,” Papyrus waved a hand, shrugging. “I can be _him_ just as much as _you_ can be.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Sans gruffed, rolling his eyes, “as if _you_ found the missing measurements to the Core. Huh? Like _you_ were the one who figured out the kinks in your ‘experiments’--y’know, you’re _so_ egotistical, it hurts.”

“And you’re still butthurt because I can play the Royal Scientist better than you can. Must say a lot about you, eh, brother?”

“Brother my _ass_. Don’t you go throwin’ that word around like you actually give a shit--you’re too worried about your _calculations_ and your _experiments_ to even _bother_ with me! Not unless you need a _substitute_ , that is.”

Purple and red danced in between the trees, sparking and sputtering, twisting and mauling the surrounding air. Something snapped, and the two brothers started shoving each other, voices raising until they were screaming.

Frisk, who had followed Sans to the clearing, stared in surprise and horror from where they hid in the bushes.

“Substitute? Please. As if you’ve even amounted to that. You whine more than you do any work.”

“Why you--you ungrateful _bastard_! I’m the whole reason you even _got_ that job in the first place--you’re lucky I didn’t blow your cover earlier to the Queen! Because _trust_ me, I almost _did--_ ”

“You _what_?”

“Yeah, uh-huh, I _almost_ did--had the most opportune moment of my life, but I didn’t take it. Nope; because I actually give a _shit_ about you and your _feelings_ , but _you_? You don’t care _at all._ ”

Papyrus’s expression morphed into something horrendous, shifting his stance. “I’ll make you regret those words.”

“Bring it, you _coward_. Bet you won’t even land a hit--”

_Whoosh!_

Frisk stifled a gasp with their hand, eyes wide at the sight of a Gaster Blaster. It opened its maw and locked onto Sans, who didn’t look troubled in the least—

\--because as soon as it took its shot, Sans had already teleported himself behind his brother, grabbing a hold of his scarf and pulling him down to the ground.

It was a full-on fist fight from there on--biting, scratching, kicking, hitting, screaming. They weren’t aiming to kill, so neither of the two’s HP dropped to zero--but they got close.

So dangerously close.

“You miserable...excuse for a _monster_ ,” Papyrus hissed, shoving his brother away from his face. Sans took the chance to aim a punch at his ribs but missed, being thrown off of the other. “And to think, I was kind enough to help you with all of this. To further your progress along--but you don’t even deserve _that_.”

“Look who’s callin’ the kettle black.” Sans spat, red marking the dirt. “I should’ve just left you on the streets--should’ve let natural selection take care of your stupid, no good _corpse_ \--”

The air was thick with magic; electrified, tasting of berries and something...dead. The souls kept in the skeleton brother’s chests glowed bright, pumping out magic faster than they could handle; they were both sweating, panting, and still, unable to control their anger.

“ _You’re nothing but trouble-_ -”

“ **You ruined everything** _\--_ ”

“ ** _I wish you weren’t my brother_** _!_ ”

_BANG._

A flash of white--and then, silence.

Frisk ran forward--and gasped.

The skeleton brothers were gone.

Instead, in their place lay two small monsters, children judging from the stripes, unconscious. They breathed shakily, their eyes shifting faster and faster in their sleep, but they were alive…

...however, Frisk couldn’t say the same went for their friends.

Staggering backwards, they ran back to the house, their heartbeat drowning out the sounds of the music. The only thing running through their mind at that very moment, was _why_.


	3. Hands

_Crunch...crunch...crunch…_

The sound of leaves crunching underfoot fell on deaf ears. Frisk couldn’t breathe; they didn’t have time. They focused on nothing but their footsteps, pounding their feet into the ground. Their mind raced ahead of them, the human unable to catch up.

_Crunch. Crunch. Crunch._

Trees left behind in the rush, the small child found themselves breaking through the wood line, running straight for the patio.

Instead of the crunching of leaves, they heard trumpets, violins, a piano. Their own panicked breaths and quiet sobbing overpowered by the sheer volume of the party.

They barreled through the door, met with laughter and both monsters and humans alike dancing, the music loud enough to make their eardrums throb.

 _In my way,_ the thought came, unbidden.

Frisk tried to look between arms and legs, tried to look around men with drinks in their hands and monsters swinging each other around.

But Toriel was nowhere to be found.

They whimpered. _Someone,_ please…

Impatience put a bounce in their step, in their soul. They saw a gap between the couples dancing in front of them and slipped through, being pushed and shoved and bumped into as they made their way out of the living room.

_Someone, anyone, please…_

_Mom…_

Finally, _finally_ , they caught sight of someone--Undyne. Leaning on the kitchen table, she smiled when she saw them running up to her.

“Hey, punk!” She greeted, pushing off from the table. “Where’ve you been? Mettaton’s been asking to have his ‘dance partner’ come out so you two could steal the show.”

Frisk’s hands moved, sporadic, eyes watering. _Can’t talk, can’t talk, can’t talk,_ their mind screamed.

And still, they couldn’t make their hands spell out the words.

Undyne frowned. “Hey, kid, you okay?” She bent down, seeing the tears gathering in their eyes. Her frown melted into worry. “Hey, what’s up? Did someone try anything on you? ’Cause let me tell ya, I’ll--”

Frisk shook their head. ‘ _Mom,_ ’ they tried, ‘ _where is Mom?_ ’

“Your mom?” Undyne raised her eyebrows, looking around. “Uh...I think out front. Yeah, actually, I think I heard her say something abo--hey!”

Frisk was already bounding out the front door, Undyne close behind.

“Wait up, you dork! You’re not gettin’ away until you explain yourself!”

Which would be soon, if Frisk could just find Toriel—

Ah.

“Hey, Toriel!” Undyne acted as their voice, seeing Frisk wave but fail to grab their mother’s attention.

Toriel turned from her conversation with the bunny who had once been the shopkeeper in Snowdin, eyes lighting up at Frisk coming up to stand at her side, “Why, hello there my—”

Only to dim when she saw their face, their hands scrambling to articulate words.

“Frisk? Frisk, my child, what--”

‘ _Sans._ ’

‘ _Papyrus._ ’

‘ _Help._ ’

That was all it took.

 

***

 

_Four souls, all fighting for control, were locked in a space in time where time itself didn’t move. Static and darkness had made a home there, and none of the souls wanted to be there._

_Only two would escape._

_Two of them, brothers, showed obvious signs of wear and tear. One’s soul showed signs of cracking, looking close to shattering; the other, dim, beating orange in an otherwise-white setting, grabbing for something that would help either of them._

_The other two souls, twins, fought each other as much as they did the brothers. Their lights were dimmer and their cracks many and visible; however, they had a tool the brothers did not:_

_Patience, and time._

_The two brothers were pushed so far back into the void that by the time the twins retreated to the other side, it was too late for them to follow. The static cleared for the dim souls, leaving the skeleton brothers behind._

_Static. Darkness._

_That was their world now._

 

***

 

Frisk sat upstairs in their mother’s room, propped up in a chair next to the bed. Two small forms laid upon it, breathing almost in sync, broken and beaten. Their souls hovered above them, cracked and dim. Their bodies glowed a green light as Toriel focused on healing them.

Undyne looked between Frisk and Toriel, arms crossed and eyebrows screwed together.

“I’m still waitin’ for that explanation, kid,” she said, eyes locked on Frisk.

The human shifted, glancing up at their mother. She gave Undyne the Look for a moment--the fish monster oblivious to her hard stare--but did nothing more.

‘ _...They had a fight,_ ’ Frisk said, finally. ‘ _There was some kind of explosion. I think. And then--_ ’

“You _think_?” Undyne hissed, dropping her arms. Her hands balled up into fists. “Frisk, it’s either a ‘you _think_ ,’ or ‘you _know_.’ You gotta remember, _you_ told us Sans and Papyrus were in trouble; _not_ these kids.”

“Let them speak, Undyne,” Toriel said, voice calm but firm, not lifting her hands from above the sleeping boys.

Undyne snapped her jaw shut, lips pressed tightly together. Nobody crossed the former Queen of monsters. _Nobody_.

Frisk swallowed, but continued: ‘ _After the explosion...Sans and Papyrus were gone, and these kids were in their place. I was scared so I ran back home._ ’

“...That makes _no_ sense.”

‘ _It’s the truth!_ ’

“Children, _please_.” Toriel glanced between the two of them; eyes soft when they were directed at Frisk and threatening when they turned to Undyne. “The fact of the matter is, we have two hurt children here that need to be taken care of. Undyne, why don’t you go and get Alphys and, ah... _the king_ for me? Please?”

“But Torie--”

“ _Now_ , please.”

Undyne bit back her tongue, giving her a curt nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

She shot a look at Frisk over her shoulder, one that the child registered as concern or perhaps suspicion--maybe even both--before leaving the four alone.

Frisk sighed, leaning forward. Tears threatened to fall, but they bit their lips to fight the urge to cry. _I’m not a crybaby,_ they thought.

A goat child came to mind at the mention of crying.

That didn’t help matters any.

“Frisk,” their mother said, and they raised their head to look at her, “it’s alright to cry.”

Still, they did not cry.

Toriel stared at them a moment longer, eyes searching them up and down, before she sighed. The glow that had been around the twins dropped and melted away. “Undyne is taking quite some time to get the others, isn’t she?” the ex-Queen asked, walking over to the door. “I’ll be right back; watch over them while I’m gone. Though...I don’t think you’ll have much trouble with that, I’m sure.”

Frisk looked up to find their mother smiling down at them. They returned it, rubbing at their eyes and watching her go.

They were alone with two sleeping children that they assumed to be their fallen friends.

Sniffling, they brought their legs up to their chest and wrapped their arms around them, burying their face in their knees.

Not even the music bellowing from down below could drown out their sobs.

 

***

 

_Everything fell apart in an instant._

It’s all gone wrong, _he thought, sprinting from this side of the lab to the other, holding onto serums and charts._ All of it; all of it, so terribly, terribly wrong…

_A red light flashed behind him; bathing him in its light. He turned long enough to see something lying stretched out on the table—_

_\--and was cut off by an explosion to his right._

_Everything faded to black…_

...He woke up in a stranger’s bed and in even stranger surroundings.

He blinked, stirred. Sat up and looked around, woozy due to a headache settling in his head.

The view outside showed him nothing but darkness; so he concluded it to be nighttime, which sounded right. The room he sat in looked royal and lavished--maybe he was at the King’s castle? Probably.

He swayed, eyes blurry.

God, if he could only think...what had happened, again?

There had been an explosion...something had gone wrong with a test—

He jumped at the sound of snoring.

He looked down to its source and groaned at what he saw.

His brother, usually wired and energetic, _sleeping_ \--and on the job, at that! _What_ nerve.

He shook the other’s shoulder, grunting. “Aster,” he said, voice distorted with static. A condition he’d had since they were babes. The symbols that popped up as he spoke helped with their selective beating, though, so he wasn’t worried about his brother misunderstanding him. “Aster, wake up.”

His only response was a snort.

...And a gasp.

He jolted, turning around to face the source of the noise. Red eyes widened at the sight of a human child, tears running down their face and hand covering their mouth.

He jumped from the bed, stared at his brother and back to the human. From his stance, he looked more like an animal than he did a monster.

The human blinked, reaching out a hand—

[FIGHT]

They gasped as everything bled to black and white, their soul pulled out of their body.

Wingdings’ eyes glowed red, and although he felt weak and could barely see through his headache, he still held out a hand and summoned an attack.

 _Just another soul to break the barrier,_ he thought.


	4. Smells like Posies and Chemicals

FRISK -- ATK 1 DEF 1

_A pacifist. Quite the shame._

 

Wingdings raised a hand, summoning his first attack, mind racing. It’d been ages since the last human had fallen down--he didn’t even know if he could beat them, if he were honest. Frisk was human, after all; they had their overpowering will to live on their side…

 _Well, no need to worry about it_ , he told himself, shaking his head. Might as well get an attack in, while he still had the chance.

Frisk gasped when something whipped past their cheek, jumping out of the way just in time to dodge the remaining array of syringes coming their way. _Needles?_ They thought, but decided not to worry about it.

Instead, they checked the small monster, reading to themselves:

 

WING.D. -- ATK 6 DEF 3

_He’s sweating. He seems nervous about something…_

 

Frisk noticed just that, seeing how the next attack missed them by almost an arm’s length. They saw how the monster’s expression twisted into something painful, and again, they pushed their [ACT] button.

They signed, ‘ _Don’t have to fight! Just want to help!_ ’

[FIGHT]

 _Why won’t he listen to me?_ Frisk wondered, eyes widening as their soul turned black. They felt the world around them shift and turn, until they were standing on the ceiling. Magic built up underneath their feet, and on reflex they jumped up, dodging—

Bones…?

“Wh--”

_Thwump._

Frisk fell to the floor, the attack draining away to shock. They sat up with a groan, rubbing their head.

Wingdings stared at his hands, confusion flickering across his face. _Where did_ that _come from?_

His thoughts were cut short as the blur of movement in front of him advanced, the human pushing themselves up to stand, stepping forward.

[ACT]

They stated signing, ‘ _No need to fight. Everything is okay. You’re--_ ’

They were flung against the wall, gravity shifting before they could comprehend what was happening. Their HP dropped.

_20 – 14_

“No need to fight?” Though static drowned out his words, Frisk could grasp a faint idea of what the monster was saying, based on his stance. “What are you talking about? Any human who falls down here...we _have_ to fight you!”

[ACT]

‘ _I don’t know what you’re saying,_ ’ Frisk admitted. ‘ _But really, I won’t hurt you--nobody will. Calm down._ ’

[FIGHT]

The room splattered with red and black, coloring the dull surroundings with a dangerous mixture of magic and blood. Frisk ran down the length of the wall, a scream tearing from their throat as needles and scalpels twice their size stabbed at the wall behind them.

The look on the young monster’s face hardened; his earlier nerves gone. Nothing remained but a cold, almost bored mask.

[ACT]

Frisk checked the monster again, feverish:

 

WING.D. -- ATK 8 DEF 1

_Looks like talking isn’t going to get through to him._

 

_Thwack, thwack, thwack._

Frisk was pushed from the wall to the ceiling to the floor and back again, maneuvering through an onslaught of syringes and bone attacks that held a vague, familiar feeling around them, but not enough to alarm them—

\--though, the blasters that appeared in front of them brought back memories they didn’t even realize they had.

They couldn’t move out of the way in time.

_14 – 6_

Frisk pulled themselves back onto their feet, staring Wingdings in the eye.

They reached forward…

[SPARE]

For a moment, the monster paused, his expression unreadable.

“... _Why_.”

Before it melted into frustration, into anger.

“Why won’t you _fight_?”

[FIGHT]

Frisk rolled away, yelping from the pain in their side. When they looked down, they found a jagged cut running along their skin, cut through their shirt and bleeding profusely. They barely managed to dodge the next attack the boy threw at them, stumbling from the constant change in gravity.

[SPARE]

And still, they refused to fight.

And still, he refused to give mercy.

“ _Why_?”

A scream was swallowed as a row of Gaster Blasters appeared behind him, aimed right at the human.

“ _Why won’t you fight back?_ ”

Frisk, realizing there was nowhere for them to go, braced themselves for the blasts, waiting for the LOAD button to appear in front of them and for the world to turn black.

“...I don’t _understand…_ ”

 _...Do they_ want _to die?_

However, the thought didn’t stop him from firing at them.

And, in return, that didn’t stop someone from stepping in the way.

With a wave of the figure’s hand, the beams disappeared, going up in a wisp of smoke. Their shoulder’s shook, and from the way their fists clenched, the human could tell the person in front of them was pushing down their own anger to keep the fight from continuing on.

As the smoke cleared, the figure revealed itself—

\--to be the other twin.

“Yanno, maybe this coulda waited until I was ready to, y’know, _get up?_ ”

 

***

 

The battle melted away, leaving the bedroom as it had been before, the three children standing in the middle. Frisk fell down on their knees, overcome by the pain spreading from their side. They bit their lip, hissing under their breath as they clasped a hand over their still bleeding wound, eyeing the two brothers in front of them.

Frisk half-expected there to be another fight, judging by the looks the two gave each other. One stared with annoyance and disappointment; the other, confused and irritated.

“Brother, you know how important that soul is,” Wingdings said, stepping forward. When his brother stepped back in response, he scowled. “Why would you stop me?”

From Frisk’s angle, they couldn’t see the shorter twin quirk an eyebrow, watching him shrug his shoulders and cross his arms.

“Oh, I dunno, bro. Maybe I was trying to spare you the mental burden of _killing_ someone? I mean, what if they just got here! They probably have no idea what’s going on…”

“I doubt that,” Wingdings scoffed. “Did you even see them? It’s _obvious_ they’ve fought at least a couple of monsters down here already. And I’m sure _someone_ would have explained our situation down here.”

“Like people go around babbling about being trapped Underground!”

“They do all the time!”

“Yeah, _you_ do. Can’t say the same about everybody--”

A _-hem_.

Frisk cleared their throat, grabbing their attention. The tense atmosphere around the twins eased a little.

“Ah, right. Sorry.” Aster turned around to face them, smiling. With the crack that ran from his lower lip to his jaw, Frisk could understand why it was lopsided. “Heya. You’re new around here, aren’tchya?”

Frisk shook their head.

“ _Told_ you,” Wingdings snapped, looking Frisk up and down. “Can you understand me?”

Again, Frisk shook their head. ‘ _Static,_ ’ they explained.

Wingdings frowned, rolling his eyes. ‘ _What is your name?_ ’ he signed.

‘ _Frisk._ ’

“Frisk?”

A brief look of recognition--but nothing more.

“Heh. That’s a weird name,” Aster shrugged, glancing over his shoulder. “But I think we’re well acquainted with weird names, right, Dings?”

Wingdings glared, but said nothing.

“...Anyway--”

The door opened, Toriel and Asgore walking in. “I swear I heard banging,” Toriel was saying, Asgore shaking his head, trying to reassure the other boss monster.

“I’m sure it was nothing--oh, my...”

They stopped at the sight of the twins, who both shared a horrified look.

“Oh, no…” Aster pulled on the sleeves of his black sweater, pulling at the loose threads at the end. He began to pace in a circle, murmuring under his breath, “We’re so _dead…_ ahh man, this is it, we’re going to _die_ , we’re gonna _dust_ , oh man, _oh man..._ ”

Wingdings, in comparison, couldn’t bring himself to speak. While his brother panicked, he stood with his eyes trained on the human, then back to Toriel and Asgore, before moving back to stare at the human again. He seemed to be trying to piece together a puzzle in his mind, missing a very important piece and thus unable to finish it, leaving a glaring hole in the solution.

Toriel and Asgore looked at each other, trying to comprehend the situation at hand. When they looked to Frisk for help and noticed their wounds, Toriel gasped.

“My child, you’re _hurt_!”

Toriel rushed over and healed them, looking them over to make sure she hadn’t missed any stray gashes or cuts. Frisk stood still for her, eyes turns downcast, unable to speak.

“Dear _lord_ , what happened in here?” She asked.

Frisk stared at the twins, saying nothing.

Toriel turned back to the other two children in the room, her worry growing worse.

“A-Ahh, children, children, please, calm down,” Toriel tried, reaching out a hand. When the only response she got was a scream from the shorter brother, she said, “There is nothing for you to fear--”

“We’re gonna lose our jobs, people are gonna hate us--oh, _God_ , our dad is gonna _kill_ us--”

“...Um, hello?” Toriel looked at Frisk for help, uncertain of herself. “Frisk, could you try and calm them down for me please? I don’t think I’m reaching them…”

Frisk hesitated, before they walked forward and grabbed Aster by the shoulders, stilling him despite his thrashing and nervous chattering. ‘ _It’s okay,_ ’ they told him. ‘ _We’re going to help_.’

“ _Help_?” Aster snorted, a bitter, skeptical sound. “Hey, bro, kid says they’re gonna _help_ \--ha! Yeah, okay, sure, you’ll _help_ \--with _what_? How’re you gonna do that, huh?”

Toriel went to say something, but Asgore stepped in, ushering her to quiet down with a hand. “Child, I do believe you are confused,” he said. “Frisk is the one that had asked Toriel and Undyne to help you both. They said something about a fight...granted, we weren’t expecting _you_ two when you were brought in.”

“ _What_?” Pull, pull, pull--out of nervous habit, Aster continued to pull at his sleeve, almost tearing it where the sleeve met with the single white stripe at his shoulders. “Brought us in--what, what are you _talking_ about? Undyne’s--she’s just a toddler, right? Why would Frisk ask for _her_ help? And a fight-- _what_ fight? Who fought who?”

“Friends of ours,” Toriel replied, kneeling down in front of the twins, Wingdings still staring curiously at the human standing at the queen’s side. “Do you not remember what happened?”

Aster became a mumbling mess; he hid his face in his hands, tears evident before he covered them up, unresponsive.

Wingdings blinked at Frisk, frowning in his confusion. ‘ _My lady,_ ’ he started, ‘ _why are you not arresting the human?_ ’

“... _What_?”

‘ _Isn’t that proper procedure? To lock up the humans that fall down here until we figure out what to do with them?_ ’

“‘Down here…’” Toriel trailed off, standing. Realization dawned on her face. “You believe we’re still Underground?”

“... ‘Believe’?” Aster repeated, looking up to meet the queen’s eyes. His eyes still watered, but something started clicking into place behind them, like clockwork. “Wait a minute--”

Aster ran over to the window, looking out.

“This...doesn’t look like New Home.”

“That’s because we’re Aboveground,” Asgore said.

A look of shock and disbelief crossed the twins’ faces. “...How long?” Aster asked.

“A year, counting today.”

“A year…”

The twins looked at each other, hope and excitement written as clear as day on their faces. They looked ready to explode.

But…there was still a glaring question on both of their minds, one that needed to be addressed.

‘ _Where have_ we _been all this time?_ ’ Wingdings signed, his smile fading as he did so.

“Yeah,” Aster added, “Where have we been? You…act like you don’t know us, your Majesty.”

Everyone else shared similar expressions, seemingly as lost as _they_ were.

“…That depends,” Toriel responded. She looked down at them, gentle and decisive, wringing her hands. “What is the last thing you remember?”

Aster and Dings shared a look--fear flashing in their eyes.

“...Um…”

‘ _...Well…_ ’

The door opened again before they could respond, Undyne and a panicked, stuttering Alphys walking in.

“I-It just doesn’t make any s-s-sense,” Alphys sputtered, “h-how could this happen? I-It’s not like them to--t-to--”

She stopped dead in her tracks when her eyes fell on the twins.

“...Oh my God.”

Aster and Wingdings looked at the small lizard, a relieved grin growing on both of their faces. “ _Alphys!_ ”

They ran over to her only to stop when she backed into her girlfriend, tears springing up in her eyes. The younger monsters shared a look of confusion, looking up at her for answers.

“O-Oh God...oh G-God, how…? Why…?” Alphys covered her mouth with a hand, turning away. “I-I...I need air...I-I’ll be right back--”

“Al, hey, wait a minute--”

A hand grabbed the twins by their sweaters, lifting them off the ground.

“Hey--”

“Put us _down_ \--”

“Alright, you butts, _enough_ messing around!” Undyne snarled, Aster and Wingdings flinching at the spittle that hit them in the face. “Where’s Sans and Papyrus? Did you two do somethin’ to them?”

In an instant, both of the twins’ eyes widened.

“Sans…?”

“ _Papyrus…?_ ”

They looked at each other, and for a moment, the room filled with that tense, heavy atmosphere again, choking out all else.

And then, together, they asked, “How do you know about the experiments?”


	5. Skeletons in the Closet

“ _Experiments?_ ”

With an identical “ _oof_ ,” the twins were released. Everyone in the room remained silent as the tension rose, anger bubbling from the fish woman who hovered over the boys, her gaze menacing.

“What the hell do you _mean_ , ‘experiments?’”

Aster and Wingdings looked at each other, exchanging worried glances.

“Uh…” The younger of the two shrugged, steering his eyes to the floor, “I-I’m not sure where to start…”

‘ _Last I knew, the experiments had failed. They weren’t alive,_ ” Dings signed, glancing at Toriel and Asgore as he did so. ‘ _Not once did they show signs of life…_ ’

“Yeah, well,” Undyne huffed, crossing her arms, “last time _we_ checked, Sans and Papyrus were alive and well. At least, before _you_ two showed up. So, start _talkin’_.”

“Undyne,” Toriel scolded, sighing.

“ _What?_ Don’t look at me like that. They’re the ones that are referring to our friends as ‘ _experiments._ ’ You can’t sit there and tell me that you aren’t just a _little_ bothered by that?”

“I _am_.” Toriel’s gaze hardened, Undyne’s aggressive stance melting away on the spot. “But, in order for us to understand, we must let them explain. Children,” she turned her eyes to the twins, “please, elaborate. You say that Sans and Papyrus weren’t alive? That they had...failed?”

Aster shifted his eyes from the floor to Toriel, then to his brother. “...Well, hotshot,” he sighed, “might as well.”

“I don’t feel comfortable talking about this, Aster. We agreed--”

“It’s either we tell ’em or not! And, _look_ , we’re already in _enough_ trouble, so--you first.”

Wingdings looked around the room, eyes falling on Frisk. ‘ _...Fine,_ ’ he signed. ‘ _We will tell you. But you have to understand that we don’t...we don’t like to talk about this._ ’

“Take your time,” Asgore said.

Dings took in a breath, preparing himself. ‘ _...A while back, Aster was assigned the role as ‘Royal Scientist.’_ ’ When this was met with odd stares, Dings paused, but continued, ‘ _However, he did not do the job alone. I--we_ both _had...cheated our ways through, so we could have the position. But, only one of us could have it, so…when my brother needed help, I began…_ pretending _to be him. It became…a habit.’_

Aster looked off to the side, rubbing his arms _. “_ Him and I took turns playing as the Royal Scientist _._ Behind everyone’s back…it got things done, but uh. Y’know.” He shrugged. They both looked pained just saying all of this, and the expressions on everyone’s faces as they admitted their crimes only made the guilt worse. “…It wasn’t our proudest moment.”

Asgore and Toriel both looked close to throwing up. The King stiffened, while the ex-Queen sighed, shifting her position and crossing her arms. “That’s...extremely illegal. What on Earth made you two do something like that?” Toriel asked.

‘ _We needed the money. We were on our own for…a long time. We needed somewhere stable to live._ ’ Dings shook his head, sighing. ‘ _It…it was a mess._ ’

“After receiving the job,” Aster continued, “King Asgore asked me—er, _us_ , I guess--to find a way to break the barrier. I tried everything; time travel, soul engineering...I even asked for the Core to be built so we could try to see if we could use the gathered geothermal energy from that to blow it up. But nothing worked. It wasn’t until Dings suggested it that I thought about constructing weapons fueled by soul power.”

Wingdings bit his lip. ‘ _We’d spent a lot of time in the lab and at ‘home’ building them--the skeletons, I mean. One was easy to get ahold of; one of the humans who’d fallen down had a good-sized skeleton that could easily be bent into a weapon. That one we called Sans. The other…the other we built using various bones and whatever materials we could use to keep them together. We called that one Papyrus._ ’

“I named them, by the way,” Aster added on, shrugging one of his shoulders. “Dings didn’t want to get attached to ’em.”

“You shouldn’t name things that you know could very well _die_ ,” Dings snapped, before turning back to the group of listeners. ‘ _The problem with the experiments, however, was that they needed souls. And for some reason, neither I nor Aster could figure out how to create a stable soul to inhabit the bodies--_ ’

“So then how did they _get_ them?” Undyne demanded.

‘ _I...don’t know. I can’t remember._ ’

“All I can remember is us giving up,” Aster said. “And then...I think we got our apprentice. Alphys.”

‘ _She knew about our research into soul power,_ ’ Dings said, nodding. ‘ _I think she showed more interest in the power driving humans rather than anything else, really...though Aster and I never figured_ that _out._ ’

“Determination.”

Everyone turned to Frisk, who jumped at the sudden attention.

They sighed, looking sheepish as they shifted from foot to foot. ‘ _Just letting you know_ ,’ they signed.

‘ _Thank you._ ’ Dings paused, shaking his head. ‘ _I can’t remember much after Alphys showed up...I think something went wrong in the lab, and there was this...explosion--_ ’

“I remember falling down.”

Wingdings turned to his brother, shocked. ‘ _What?_ ’

Aster looked from him to the floor, stepping away. “I dunno. I think a lot of monsters were falling down back then; I just happened to join them. You know how my health is, bro--even a sniffle is deadly for me, ever since the, uh…Accident.”

“…Accident?” Asgore asked.

“Not important.” Aster scratched at his skull. “The last thing I remember is everything going black after you said you were gonna take me to the lab.”

Dings looked at him, questioning, “Take you to th--”

_“Please, don’t die on me now.”_

_“I can’t do this without you.”_

_“Brother,_ please _.”_

_Blaring red lights and sirens whirred in his mind, hands frantic in their work._

_Dust covered his hands, his lab coat, crusted in his eyes._

_“Don’t leave, please,_ please-- _”_

_His right hand--balled into a fist--glowed with red magic as it hovered a barely-stable soul in his palm, before shoving it into a small skeleton’s body._

_Another alarm went off. He turned away as the soul attached itself to the body’s dormant soul._

_“What--”_

_An explosion knocked him onto the opposite table—_

“ _Dings!_ ”

With a gasp, the older snapped out of his episode, immediately in tears. Aster had a hold of his shoulders, looking him in the eyes, confused and worried. “What did I _do_?”

It was all the smaller could do to catch him before Dings fell to the ground. “Dings, what—”

“Oh, God, what did I _do_...Aster, you _died_ , I--I was trying to--you were _dust_ , I didn’t mean to--I’m so sorry--I _failed_ you, Aster, I’m so sorry-- _what did I do--_ ”

“Hey, hey, calm down! Everything’s fine, bro--hey, look at me.” Tilting the other to look at him, Aster did his best to smile. “See? I’m fine. Don’t worry, okay? Just--breathe.”

Dings tried his best, but to no avail.

Toriel walked over to him and knelt down beside him, laying her hand on his back. She recoiled when he jumped at the touch, sighing. “...We will talk more about this later,” she decided, turning to Undyne. “It might be best if you return to the party. I will need to have a talk with Alphys about this later...Asgore?”

“Yes, Toriel?” his voice shook as he spoke.

“Leave. Please.”

Undyne shot a final glare at the two brothers, though much softer than her looks from earlier, before following the retreating goat king out of the room. Toriel, Frisk, and the twins were left in the bedroom, the only noise being Wingdings’ distorted wheezing and sobbing.

Frisk sat down on the bed, placing their elbows on their knees and leaning their chin onto their hands. Forcing the words out, they asked. “Y...ou, oka-y?”

Dings glanced up at them, unable to speak.

“He’ll be alright, little human,” Aster assured, rolling his eyes as he held his brother’s hand in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. “Don’t worry about it--hey, uh, Queen Toriel?”

“Just Toriel, child,” Toriel informed him. “I no longer associate that title with myself.”

Aster nodded. “You said that there was a party downstairs, right?”

At that, she shifted her eyes away. “...Yes. Why?”

Aster hummed, looking towards the door. “...Frisk, maybe you should go join everyone else downstairs? To, ah--get away from the excitement. Ha.”

Frisk tilted their head.

“...Go and, uh, be a kid?”

Frisk frowned, crossing their arms across their chest.

“Okay. Can’t argue with that, I guess.” Aster leaned on his brother, frowning as well, though for a different reason. “...Toriel?”

“Yes, my child?”

Aster felt something twist where his soul rested in his chest, an awful feeling tingling through his body. “...Do you...know why we’re kids?”

“...Are you...not supposed to be?” Toriel raised an eyebrow at him.

Aster gave her a look. “Well, considering we’re the Royal Scientist--please tell me you’re not mad about that by the way--yeah, I’d have to say we’re supposed to be adults. Or, _were_ adults...I’m still trying to figure out what happened there. Or, uh, why everyone seems to…not. _Know_ us?”

Toriel paused, before she shook her head. “No, Aster, I have to say I’m not angry with you about that,” she told him. “Mainly because I don’t believe your story.”

Aster deadpanned. “...E-Excuse me?”

“The only Royal Scientist we’ve ever had is Alphys,” Toriel said, giving him a warning look. “You boys have...fabricated quite the story. I’m more worried about the fact you think you ever worked for us than--”

“Woah, woah, _woah_. I-- _we_ \-- _trained_ Alphys. What do you mean, she was the _only_ Royal Scientist you had? That’s bogus! Dings and I both had plenty of meetings with you and the King, and even Asriel and Char--”

“ _Do not speak their name._ ”

Aster flinched, inching away.

Toriel breathed through her nose, eyes squeezed shut as she massaged her temples. The hand she’d had at Dings’ back rested on her knee, and she pushed herself up to stand. “...I need a break from this,” she told him, “from all of this...confusion and questions. If...if your brother’s condition gets worse, come and get me, but otherwise--stay in here. And _don’t_ leave. Do you understand?”

“Y-Yes, ma’am.” Aster’s voice shriveled into almost nothing at her tone, the boy shrinking in on himself.

“Good.” Toriel’s expression warmed immediately when she met Frisk’s eyes, holding out her hand. “Come along, Frisk. We must see how everyone downstairs is doing.”

Frisk stared nervously at the twins, standing on their feet. With a final wave, they followed Toriel out of the room, music and laughter slipping into the room the moment the door opened, silence following as soon as it closed.

Aster shot a glare at his brother, letting out a groan. “Jeez, Dings...what’d you do _this_ time? Now people don’t even _remember_ us!” He said, picking his brother up and setting him on the bed.

When Dings sniffled in response, the anger in Aster’s voice died down, replaced with frustrated tears. Softer this time, he whispered, “What did you _do?_ ”

They both fell silent, lying next to each other in bed. Even with a thousand unanswered questions swirling around inside their heads, it didn’t take them long to fall back into an uneasy sleep, forgetting their worries for a while.

 

***

 

“...I still don’t understand why they lied.”

Toriel, Asgore, Undyne, Alphys, and Frisk all sat around the kitchen table, all in a similar stupor. The guests from the party had left hours ago, and with it being the early hours of the morning, Frisk could barely keep their eyes open.

Two chairs were left vacant among them, a glaring reminder that two parties were missing throughout this whole ordeal, leaving the decision-making up to everyone else in their place.

“They were probably just worried that they were in trouble,” Asgore told his ex-wife, who frowned in response. “With Sans and Papyrus missing, there’s no telling _what_ those two have done…”

“I still can’t wrap my head around those two fighting,” Undyne huffed. “I mean, yeah, they were acting a little _weird_ earlier, but--they’re so close! They _never_ fight; Sans thinks too highly of Pap and Pap thinks too highly of himself...which isn’t necessarily a bad thing--at least, most of the time, anyway.”

Alphys sipped her tea, pursing her lips. She’d stayed silent the whole conversation, eyes trained on the tabletop. Something stirred behind those eyes, her glasses stormy.

“Well, in _any_ case, I will be watching over them until we are able to find their parents,” Toriel said. “It’s obvious they need a place to recover from...whatever _this_ is, and I want to keep an eye on them, with them being so engrossed in their little tale of being _the Royal Scientist_.”

“Ha!” Undyne snorted, slamming her fist on the table. The cups of tea resting on its surface jumped, as did Frisk, who was about to pass out with their chin still resting in their hands. “That was the worst part! Them claiming they were this duo of science prodigies--what a _riot_!”

The cup in Alphys’s hands shook. Still, she didn’t say a word.

Toriel crossed her arms, hugging herself around the middle. “I just don’t understand...I mean, what they did couldn’t have been _that_ bad, could it? They’re just children.”

“It was if Sans and Papyrus are missing! Hell--I could jail ’em right now!”

“Undyne, please calm down…”

“Don’t you tell me to calm down! I’m fuming! Those twerps expect us to believe that--”

_Bam! Cl-link!_

Alphys slammed her cup of tea on the table, glass shattering on impact. Tea spilled onto the tabletop, sinking into the papers resting on it and running off the sides, dripping onto the floor. Her whole body trembled with the effort to calm herself. “Would you all just _shut up_?”

Everyone fell silent, startled by her outburst.

Slowly, she let out an uneasy breath through her nose, eyeing her startled friends one by one. “...They weren’t lying.”

Undyne’s jaw slackened. “...What.”

“I...I-I _was_ an apprentice, starting out,” Alphys sputtered, her anger clearing for a brief moment, before returning full-force. “Th-The scientist before me w-was named ‘W.D. Gaster.’ H-He...he was strange, but known to be v-very intelligent. One day h-he’d be cynical and detached, th-the next he’d...he’d leave a fake chicken in my office a-a-and crack jokes left and r-right. I always thought...that he was j-just a little off, but...I know, I know for a _fact_ , that once he disappeared, everyone...e-everyone forgot about him. No memory of a R-Royal Scientist before me, n-no recollection of experiments with soul energy--which they _did_ o-okay with you, Asgore, b-before you think o-otherwise--just. Me. The Royal Scientist...and those two sk-skeletons in Snowdin, who just…showed up one day.”

Everyone around the table was too stunned to speak, watching as Alphys wiped sweat from her forehead.

“…Why would you hide something like this?” Asgore asked, reaching forward to take her hand. A soothing gesture, though it did nothing to calm the scientist one bit. “This…this is very important information—”

“Because I got tired of trying!” Alphys snapped, whirling around to face him. “D-Do you _know_ how m-many times I tried to tell someone? T-To tell them about…a-about the _other_ Royal Scientist? Every time… _every_ time I tried, I—I was told I was crazy, so…” She shook her head. “I gave up.”

More silence.

Alphys sighed, leaning back in her chair. “...L-Look, I don’t...I don’t kn-know everything, but--those two? Th-They’re not lying, a-and I think...th-they’re just as confused, and _scared_ , as we a-are, s-so...maybe we should back off? And wait? U-Until they remember more?”

Undyne blinked, once, twice. Then, “You’re kidding me, Al. You can’t possibly--”

“Undyne, do I l-lie to you? Have I l-lied to you since the Amalgamates?”

Her girlfriend shut her mouth at that.

“I-I wouldn’t lie to you guys! I...I never want...t-to like that again! Just--” Flustered, Alphys rubbed her face with her hands, “Just take my word for it. P-Please.”

Silence.

‘ _...I believe you._ ’

Toriel caught the words first, seeing the hand movements out of the corner of her eyes. She bit her lip, thinking for a moment, then smiled. “I believe you as well, Alphys. Thank you for letting us know.”

“Y...es,” Asgore agreed finally, “I suppose, now that you have told us this information, that it gives weight to the children's’ statements...but we’ll still have to find a way to make sure.”

“I-I could...get their soul readings,” Alphys offered, hands moving frantically as she spoke. “I-If it...if it’s similar to the ch-charts I did on S-Sans and Pap-P-Papyrus when we came u-up here, then it might...help?”

“Very well.” Asgore nodded, standing up and stretching. “It is getting late; I have some business to take care of tomorrow, so I should head home. See you all sometime this week.”

He started out, stopped only when Undyne called after him, “Hey, Fluffybuns! Wait for me...Al, come on, we really should get home. You’ve got a lot of speakin’ to do and I expect to hear _lots_ of stuttering and gushy feelings!”

“O-Okay!”

As they left, Toriel looked to Frisk, who had finally succumbed to sleep. Smiling to herself, she picked her child up and walked upstairs with them in her arms, carrying them to her room.

She passed the master bedroom on her way to their room, and, unable to stop herself, peeked inside to check on the other monsters sleeping on her bed.

She froze.

For a moment, however brief, she could have sworn she saw the two skeletons lying on the bed instead of the two children. The image was quickly shattered, however, when Frisk snored, and Toriel looked away to stare at them. When she looked back, Aster and Wingdings were lying on her bed, lost in a deep sleep.

She let out a breath. _What a day,_ she thought.

She walked the rest of the way to Frisk’s room, hoping tomorrow would be easier for them all.


	6. The Bonds of Brotherhood

_No fate could be worse than this place of static._

_Forced to listen, over and over, to the echo of memories; watching, again and again, one’s achievements, one’s mistakes, one’s lifetime. A torturous cycle that all suffered alone, in this place._

_Papyrus missed his brother._

_Sans missed his brother._

_They missed Toriel, and Undyne, and Alphys, and Asgore--hell, even Mettaton. And the human; they couldn’t dare forget about Frisk._

_They just wanted to go_ home _._

_Within their stagnant prisons, the static stirred. A window into another world ripped itself into existence, echoing in painful screams and cries that faded into a familiar silence._

_The two souls separated themselves from the static, the echoes, the torment thrown upon them with no reason or remorse. They rushed forward, almost on instinct._

_All they wanted was to be free._

_The Void proved to be merciful, every once in a while._

_But it could only be merciful for so long._

 

***

 

Golden light bathed the room in a warm, fulfilling atmosphere, high windows reaching towards the sky and columns lining each side of the hall. A holy, peaceful hum fell upon the place, and he might have found himself at ease, depending on the situation. Across from him led the way back to New Home; behind him, the King’s throne room.

He knew this place well, having been here so many times.

The judgment hall; where oneself is questioned and judged by a chosen monster, their actions and very soul exposed for the entire world to see.

Oh, what an intimidating place to be.

Yet, when the call of birds and murmurs of voices could usually be heard, nothing but silence remained. The air in the hall weighed down on his shoulders, and a red, dusty scarf wrapped tightly around his throat, reminding him of something he couldn’t remember. Not yet, anyways.

In front of him stood a human--Chara, he recognized--their hideous smile fixed in place, clothes covered in white and grey, the fabric of their sweater splotched with red from old wounds. They held a knife in hand and, for an odd moment...resembled Frisk.

A dark, hateful aura pierced his soul. He stared them down…

“ _Let’s just get to the point._ ”

...and fought to the death.

 

**999999**

 

Aster woke up gasping for air, shaking in sweat-soaked clothes. Funny, considering he hadn’t expelled magic through sweat in a long time.

The dream felt foreign to him--its origins from an unknown source. It left a bitter taste in his mouth and his soul shaken, but from betrayal or shock, he wasn’t sure.

Gaining control of his breathing and grounding himself, Aster fell back on the bed with a huff.

“Stupid dreams,” he muttered to himself, glancing at the clock on the bedside table: _4:17._ Well, at least it was morning.

Early, but still. Morning.

Rolling onto his side, Aster blinked at the empty space next to him.

“Dings?”

He sat up in an instant, looking around. No sign of his know-it-all brother anywhere; he sat alone in the master bedroom, submerged in disorienting darkness.

“ _Dings…_ ”

He slipped out of bed, walking around it to leave the room. The hallway looked clear, too, and all the other doors were shut.

 _Downstairs it is_ , he thought, tip-toeing to the staircase. Even with the house belonging to past-royalty, it was surprisingly easy to find his way around.

Taking the steps two at a time, Aster made sure not to make too much noise as he descended down the stairs. When he reached bottom, he still couldn’t find his pesky twin.

 _Just where could he have gone to?_ He wondered.

He checked everywhere; the kitchen, the living room, the bathroom, the halls.

Nothing.

Until he caught sight of someone sitting on the back patio, looking up.

Aster pushed the back door open, looking his brother up and down. He shivered a bit from the cool air, an early-morning breeze kicking up at his arrival. “What’re you doing out here?” he asked, though by his brother’s expression, he felt he already knew the answer.

Wingdings glanced away from the sky for only a moment to register Aster’s presence, before he turned his attention back to the stars. “...I can’t believe we’re up here,” he said, static drowning out most of his words. “I never thought we’d actually get here, you know? That we’d…we’d actually _do_ it, like we said we would. It...feels surreal.”

Aster searched for something more, but all he could find was wonder and amazement painted on Dings’ face. He smiled. “Heh...yeah, me neither.”

“Then why aren’t you looking with me?”

He rolled his eyes and looked up, his breath taken away immediately. Even with morning beginning to trickle in, stars scattered and mapped their way across the sky, their light enough to light the world below. The black and purple hue swirled together and danced between the few clouds that dared cover up the beautiful display, leading the stars in an endless ballet.

“Wow,” Aster breathed.

“That’s what I said, two hours ago.”

Aster blinked back to reality. “You’ve been out here for _two hours?_ ” he whispered, keeping his voice down before he wound up screaming at his older brother. Really, he couldn’t understand Dings sometimes. “What’s _wrong_ with you? It’s so cold out here...are you _trying_ to get yourself sick?”

“I wanted to see the sky, Aster. Can’t I just have that?” The tone in Wingdings’ voice threatened to push their conversation into an argument faster than a lightning strike, if Aster wasn’t careful.

Aster met his brother’s eyes and sighed. “...I’m not faulting you, or anything,” he mumbled. “I’m just...worried. Brothers do that, y’know.”

“I know. Trust me, I know.”

Aster crossed his arms, glancing up again. He had to admit, if he didn’t study stars as much as he did in the Underground, he could imagine himself staring at the sky all night long, looking for different constellations, trying to see if he could spot a nebula.

Coming to the realization, Aster shook his head and pushed his brother aside, sitting down next to him on the stairs, “Move over, brainiac. The real sibling wants to sit.”

“‘Real sibling?’” Dings raised an eyebrow, forcing back a smile. “I do believe we’re _both_ real, brother.”

“Yeah, well, you know. Mom liked me more.”

“Then I do believe the word you’re looking for is ‘ _prized,_ ’ not _‘real.’_ ”

“Oh, shut up. Nobody asked you,” Aster snorted and covered his brother’s mouth, earning a small string of words that he deemed as swears.

The two broke into a fit of playful punches and shoves, both not harboring any ill intent, if one judged by their stifled snickering. For a moment, underneath the stars, they both seemed to forget every little worry that plagued their minds after everything that had happened.

When they calmed down long enough to keep to themselves, Dings’ smile drained from his face, eyes wandering back to the stars. “...Aster, do you remember what happened? At the lab, I mean,” he asked, voice shaking as he spoke.

Aster gave him a strange look. “No,” he replied, “I already told you, I don’t remember much after falling down. Why?”

Wingdings hesitated, shaking his head. “...I don’t know why,” he said at last. “I just--feel like I’m the reason we’re in this mess.”

“Probably,” Aster hummed. “You’re usually the reason why we’re in trouble.”

“ _You’re_ the reason we’re always in trouble,” Dings corrected, sighing. “No, Aster, I mean--I remember...your soul, it--you--I watched you die, and...I held it above the small one when something went wrong, and I was thrown back--”

“Bro—”

“I’m just worried that…that I’m the reason nobody remembers us… _and_ the reason everyone says the skeletons are alive.” Wingdings continued on despite his brother’s warning, shaking his head. “ _Ugh_ , this is all so confusing…I just want to know what _happened_ —”

“ _Dings_.”

“ _What_?” He snapped, looking at the younger. At his brother’s expression, he deflated, his expression softening slightly. “...Y-Yes?” The word shook with lingering doubt and guilt.

“Stop worryin’ about it.” Aster leaned back on his hands, a soft smile slipping easily onto his face. He looked back up to the sky, saying, “The past is the past. Whatever you did--we’re here now. I’m not dead, you’re not dead--as far as I care, those experiments _failed_ , no matter _what_ they all said in there. This--”

He gestured around them, to the trees and the grass and the night sky.

“ _\--this_ was our results. We made it; okay? We _did_ it. So, stop with all the self-destructing. That’s _my_ job.”

Dings bit back his lip, chuckling. “Yes, I suppose it is,” he mused, looking back up at the sky. Still, in his doubt he leaned against the smaller, comforted by the fact that he was there, solid and alive and there. “I’m...still worried, though.”

“I told ya to _stop_ that,” Aster sighed. “You’ll get wrinkles.”

“Aster, please, be serious,” Dings told him, pausing. “I...well…they don’t seem to remember us, so—is it possible…that maybe we—w-we might not have existed?”

Aster’s face clouded. He looked…unsettled, at best. “...I don’t know,” his brother responded. “I hope not.”

“And Toriel...she said Alphys was the only Royal Scientist the King and Queen had ever employed. But...they had _us_ , and they had the other workers there, which were considered a part of the Royal Scientific community. Where are _they_?”

Aster looked to his brother, then off to the side. “I-I dunno.”

Something rotten coiled around Wingdings’ soul. Pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, he said, “I don’t know if I really want to know anymore.”

Aster pulled his legs up as well, crossing them and resting his hands in his lap. “Then how about we _not_ focus on it?” he said. “Let’s just...enjoy Aboveground. Just for right now.”

“...Yeah.”

They fell silent, absorbing the sky and all it had to offer them. The breeze kicked up again, wrapping around them in a cold embrace.

Small, incomprehensible words whispered in the wind, covered by static and the whipping of the air. The voices may have once been familiar, perhaps in a distant dream or a creeping doubt in the back of their minds; but now, for the most part, they were lost to the wind, unrecognizable and disorderly.

Neither brother noticed the static or the voices calling their names, instead involved in their wandering thoughts.

They were too busy eating away at their own needless thoughts, the lingering worry for their lost experiments clinging to the back of their minds, to realize such tedious details.


	7. Obscured Sense of Self

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chaos ensues. also plot happens.

The first week with the scientist twins proved to be a disaster, if Toriel were honest with herself.

“Child, what on _Earth_ are you doing on the ceiling?” she demanded, hands on her hips. She strained her neck to look up, Wingdings barely glancing down at her from his book. She’d found him like this after looking for two hours; half-tempted to tear the house to pieces just to find him and give him a good ear-chewing. She hadn’t even _thought_ to look up.

“Reading,” he answered, voice dull, before picking up where he left off. His hands translated his words for him, so Toriel understood his every word.

“Can’t you read on the floor?”

“That would be defeating the purpose of challenging gravity and its limits, Ms. Toriel.” He and his brother had dropped her former title after she’d finally gotten through to them that she was no longer the Queen. Still, Wingdings, ever attached to his formalities, refused to just call her by her name. She gave up fighting him about it a while ago.

“Challenging gravity--this is _absurd_! Get down here this instant!”

Wingdings quirked an eyebrow, not bothering to move a muscle.

“Wingdings, get down from there _immediately_ , or else I’ll--”

_Crash! BANG!_

The commotion came from the kitchen.

“What…?” Startled, Toriel turned and rushed inside, eyes widening as soon as she entered the doorway. “Oh...my…”

Where the stove once stood in the kitchen now smoldered a black, smoking pile of nothing, the wall scorched and charred. Pots and pans laid scattered on the floor from open cupboards above. Standing in the middle of the kitchen, a panicking, sweating mess, was Aster.

“No, no, no--I didn’t mean to do _that_ , I--I-- _ack_!” Upon catching sight of Toriel, he jumped and bowed his head, playing with his sleeves and kicked at his heel with his other foot. “H-Hey, Toriel! L-Listen, um...it’s not what it looks like?”

Toriel crossed her arms.

“I, uh…” he looked around the room, searching for help that wouldn’t be arriving anytime soon. “...W-Well, at least it went out with a _bang_ , right?”

Toriel raised an eyebrow, fighting back a smile.

Tearing up at this point, Aster bit his lip and rubbed his eyes--anything to avoid the pressure of being looked down on. “...I-I’m sorry,” he said at last, sniffling. “I didn’t mean--”

“It’s alright, Aster,” Toriel reassured, even though she knew full well it was a lie. But, she didn’t like to see children cry. “I needed a new stove anyway--though, you _do_ need to clean this mess up. Or else I _will_ be mad.”

“Y...Yes, ma’am.”

Toriel offered a smile, seeing as the boy had regained his composure. “...What were you doing, anyway?” she asked.

Aster glanced to the side, tapping his thumbs together. At the question, a slow smirk crawled onto his face, lopsided from the crack on his jaw. “Oh, yanno,” he shrugged. “Just _spicin’ it up_ a bit in here.”

Toriel snorted, “You were _cooking_? Child, why didn’t you ask for my help?”

“Well, I’ve cooked before. Used to be an adult and all that--guess it’s just been a while? Plus, ah...a dog _might’ve_ startled me.”

“...A dog?”

“ _Ms. Toriel! There’s a disgusting mutt in here and it’s being very annoying and affectionate!_ ”

Oh, someone save her now.

 

***

 

“Alright, punks! Listen up--if you’re going to stick around, you might as well learn a few things about the _real_ important stuff--fighting!”

At that, Aster raised a hand.

“Uh...the one with the injury.”

“Can I skip this and do something _fun_ instead?”

Something familiar washed over the fish warrior, “ _No_ , you can’t! Stop being so insufferable! It’s not like this’ll _kill_ you!”

“Isn’t that the point of this exercise?” Dings muttered under his breath, and lucky for him, Undyne didn’t hear him.

Undyne adjusted her stance, spear in hand. “Now, the first thing you do is balance yourself so you’re not gonna--”

“ _Ugh_ ,” Aster flopped down on the grass, rolling onto his side, “this is _so_ boring. I’d rather be listening to Asgore’s lectures.”

“Brother, please, try to take this seriously. Undyne is obviously enjoying herself.”

“Like you care or not if she enjoys herself?” Aster said as he glanced up at his brother, squinting due to the sun.

“I may be able to control my emotions better than you, but I’m not apathetic. Do try and differentiate between the two, dear brother.”

“Might as well be the same thing. ’S not like you’ve cared about anyone other than yourse--”

_Ping!_

Aster went flying into the air, screaming in spite of himself. An array of something black and foreign objects shot up after him, his brother’s eyes glowing red all the while.

The black spiraled up, and up, and up—

_Ping!_

The black crashed into a green shield, bouncing off and dissipating.

Dings turned to Undyne, whose face had turned a dark shade of purple. “I dunno what _that_ was all about,” she said, “but next time? Don’t. You. _Dare_. Attack a friend like that. Ever. _Again_.”

Dings didn’t even bat an eye. ‘ _Look who’s talking,_ ’ he signed, before dropping his brother and walking off.

Aster winced, sitting up and rubbing his back. “Ahh...see?” he said to Undyne, gesturing to his retreating brother’s back. “Apathetic. Like I said.”

Undyne frowned, then shook her head. The purple slowly drained from her face as she grinned her famous toothy smile. “Nah,” she replied, “not apathetic. Just a lil’ shit when he wants to be!”

Aster still didn’t see the difference.

 

***

 

Dings had no idea how Aster could do so many cartwheels in a row and then follow them with a flip. No idea, whatsoever, as to why he had so much untamed energy.

“Hup!” Aster landed on his feet and stumbled, catching himself on the heels of his shoes and throwing his arms up in the air. “Did it!”

From the patio, Frisk clapped. ‘ _Impressive!_ ’ they told him, grinning from ear to ear.

Wingdings shook his head. “Aren’t you tired?” he asked, making sure his magic conjured up hands to sign along as he spoke.

“Me? _Tired_? Psh! Nahhh.” The younger twin bounced on his heels, looking around. With no breeze, the air was hot and humid, compared to most days. The fact was evident, as his brother’s sweater was soaked with sweat, and he still refused to take the thing off. “I’ve got enough juice in me to last for days!”

“Weren’t you complaining about being tired just yesterday? You seemed like all you wanted to do was sleep…”

“Yeah, well, last night happened! Duh. Now I’m all charged up an’ ready to go!”

His brother did a backflip to emphasize his statement. Frisk, in turn, hollered.

Dings glanced at them, frowning. ‘ _You enjoy this?_ ’ he asked Frisk.

Frisk just shrugged. ‘ _At least he’s doing something. Why don’t you do something, too? The three of us could always do something together._ ’

Wingdings’ eye twitched. His frown deepened as he stood, brushing himself off and muttering, ‘ _I’m going inside._ ’

The patio door slammed closed behind him.

Frisk and Aster shared a look but said nothing on Wingdings’ departure.

“Wanna play a game? We could do whatever you humans do up here.”

‘ _Tag?_ ’

“Sure, whatever! I’m game.”

 

***

 

“They act like _children_ ,” Undyne grunted, head in her hands as she leaned her elbows on the tabletop. Asgore sipped his tea, listening closely. “I mean, I can see _some_ of the similarities to Sans and Papyrus, but come _on_. They’re _kids_! It’s like one minute, they’re emotional and need to cling to someone, and then the next they’re either at each other’s throats or getting _so_ wound up they get into something they’re not supposed to! Like, what even--”

“Undyne,” Asgore cut in, “doesn’t this sound a bit familiar to you?”

“Familiar? Wha--” at the King’s smirk, Undyne glowered. “Oh, ha, ha, King Fluffybuns. Yeah, I was a brat as a kid, too, but I wasn’t _that_ bad.”

“As your godparent, I could disagree with that.”

“Asgore, you’re supposed to be on _my_ side about this!”

Sitting only a dozen or so feet away, huddled together near Asgore’s garden, the twins talked idly amongst themselves, eavesdropping on the conversation.

“They _can’t_ think we’re that naive, can they?” Dings murmured, arms crossed over his knees.

Aster played with a flower in front of him, expression unreadable as he shrugged. “I’unno,” he mumbled. “Seems they’ve forgotten about the fact we’re technically adults.”

“Doesn’t help you don’t act your age, Aster.”

“I don’t have t--oh.”

“Yeah. ‘ _Oh._ ’”

Aster pouted. “Still doesn’t mean they have to talk about us like we’re criminals,” he said.

“Yeah, well,” his brother shrugged, “what can we do to stop them? They barely believe us about the experiments and us...you know.”

“Playin’ doc?”

“...Yes.”

Aster hummed, his face morphing into something less than pleasant, if Dings were honest.

“...What are you plotting?”

Aster’s grin was monstrous. “You’ll see--here, summon your blasters.”

“...You think Alphys’ll be ready to get their chart readings by tomorrow?” Undyne asked, waving a hand in the air.

“Possibly,” Asgore ran his fingers through his beard, thinking it over. “She’s...very overwhelmed, at the moment.”

“We’re _all_ overwhelmed, Asgore. In case you forgot, those lil’ _heathens_ are the reason our friends are missing, maybe even _dead_!” At this, Undyne stood from her seat, turning to the king in desperation and, admittedly, rage.

“I _haven’t_ forgotten,” Asgore reminded, gesturing for Undyne to sit back down. Begrudgingly, she did. “Undyne, as you’ve said yourself: they’re just children. There’s no way that--”

“ _H-Hey, what’re you_ doing _?_ ”

The king and the warrior turned to find Wingdings aiming two giant, seething, demonic-looking skulls at the other twin, who cowered underneath the heat of the red magic gathering in its maw. Undyne and Asgore shot up at once, rushing over.

“Hey, put those back right now!” Undyne shouted.

“Wingdings, Aster, please, stop this at once,” Asgore began, “This is unnecessary! Why don’t we just—”

His words were cut short as the beams went off--knocking Aster’s useless thirteen HP to seven.

Aster’s scream shattered what little authority either of the older monsters had.

“Stop, _stop_!” Asgore pulled Aster away from Dings, looking the younger twin over. “Are you alright, child?” he asked the smaller twin, who had broken down into mere sniffles.

Aster clung to his smoldering arm, shaking. “I-It hurts…” He said, motioned to his injured arm, tears running freely down his face.

Undyne grabbed ahold of Wingdings’ sweater, pulling him up off the ground and spitting fury in his face, “What the hell is wrong with you? That’s your _brother_! I don’t give a damn what this was about--you don’t just attack your family!”

Dings did nothing but stare, face stoic, like a mask.

Crinkling her nose, Undyne shoved him to the ground, keeping a firm grip on his wrist. “I’ll take _this_ one inside,” she informed the king, who nodded in his distraction. “Is that one alright?”

“I’ll have to heal him, but yes, I believe he will be fine,” Asgore sighed, inspecting the injured arm before hovering a hand above the agitated flesh. Aster hissed from the contact. “Undyne?”

“Yeah?” Standing in the doorway, eyes like daggers, Undyne met Asgore’s gaze. Her fist crushed the older twin’s arm as she held onto his wrist, grinding the bones together underneath her grasp.

Asgore looked between her and Wingdings’ pained expression, before saying, “Don’t be too rough on him.”

Undyne paused, then scoffed. “Tch. Whatever.”

She went inside, dragging Dings along with her.

Asgore turned back to Aster, pulling at the boy’s hand. “Alright, let’s see--”

Aster lifted his hand, showing nothing. Instead, magic manifested in his palm, and before Asgore could react, he hovered in the air, soul the color of murky water.

“I was wonderin’ when she’d leave,” Aster snorted, eyes glowing purple as his trademark, lopsided grin slipped onto his features. “Listen, I’m not gonna do anything--but I _do_ want to ask some questions, ya hear?”

Asgore sputtered. Whereas he could get himself out of this situation--quite easily, in fact--he didn’t feel comfortable attacking a child. He’d decided to do away with such ideals after his confrontation with Frisk.

“I...I-I’m listening.”

“Good.”

Aster conjured up multiple hands, gently placing the goat monster back on the ground--but not letting go of him. Just in case.

“Now,” he smiled, a dangerous, filthy thing, “how ’bout we start off by telling me about Dr. Alphys’ work.”

 

***

 

“A-Alright,” Alphys said, pulling out some charts from her cabinet, “I-I’m ready to get your s-soul readings! I-I’ve got Sans’ and Papyrus’ right here--h-hey, are you two l-listening?”

Dings and Aster shared a look, sitting on the same white bed, as they all felt it would be better that they both were comfortable for the procedure. Something akin to concern flashed in their eyes, making Alphys fidget.

“U-Um...guys? Are you ready, or n-not?”

“...Alphys, why are you the only one who remembers?” Aster asked.

Alphys flinched. “A-Ah...what?” she chuckled, nervous. “I-I, uh, don’t know what you--”

“Yeah, you do,” Aster interrupted, crossing his arms. He raised his eyebrows, daring her to defy him. “Don’t act like you don’t.”

The lizard monster tapped her fingers together. “…I…I would prefer, n-not to talk about this—”

‘ _We heard about the Amalgamates,_ ’ Dings cut in, then. ‘ _Of your failures after we disappeared...tell me, did you do these things because of your usual stubbornness? Morbid curiosity, perhaps? Or because you were distraught, considering our entire team was supposedly wiped from the face of the Earth?_ ’

Alphys didn’t respond.

“Dings, that was harsh,” his brother scolded, sighing. “...But, we need to know. What...what do you remember? What happened to the others? I mean, _you’re_ around--why aren’t _they_?”

Alphys looked between the two of them for a full minute, skin awfully pale. She turned away, looking at the charts in her shaking hands. “...I-I don’t want to talk about this,” she told them. She sounded close to tears. “I-I can’t...I don’t want to. Please.”

“Answer the question, Alphys,” Dings ordered.

Alphys winced from the static, only able to hear some of the words. “I-I...I…” She glanced over her shoulder, and indeed, tears were evident.

The twins felt sins crawl on their back.

Looking in front of her now, Alphys took in a breath to steel herself, setting the charts down on her desk. “...Th...There was...a-an accident,” she began, pausing to lift her glasses and wipe at her eyes, “I-I dunno what--what happened. Exactly--Sans saw the explosion, not me—”

“Sans was with you?” Aster gasped, leaning forward. “He…he _worked_ with you?”

Alphys nodded, expression grave. “Y-Yes. In fact, we…we were both working to—t-to bring you both back.”

The twins looked at each other, their eyes wide. ‘Alone?’ Wingdings signed. ‘That sounds dangerous.’

“W-Well, we _weren’t_ doing it a-alone,” Alphys said, her voice strained, stomping her foot hard enough that the bed jumped. She sighed, running a hand down her face, wiping away tears. “Y-You see…Papyrus was in on it, too. A-And the rest of the team, w-we—we all really wanted you back…even if it meant dealing with Sans and Papyrus.”

What is that supposed to mean? Aster frowned, sitting on the edge of the bed. “…What happened after the explosion?” He murmured, dread filling his stomach. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer at this rate.

Alphys hesitated, looking away. “I never…I-I never s-saw it, but I...I-I _heard_ it. The explosion, I mean. I-I remember...running. Everything was a blur, a-and I was so—so scared.” She broke off into a sob. “When I reached them, I--I saw--I saw…”

She paused, hiccupping. Aster went to stand and comfort her, but Dings grabbed his wrist, shaking his head and mouthing a silent “ _no_.”

“...Th-They were falling apart,” she said, voice raising and eyes growing wide, “just...just turning into nothing! Right in f-front of _both_ of us! Not into _dust_ , b-but--something else. It was...it was _worse_ than the Amalgamates! Sans and I, we--we couldn’t do anything to stop it.” Another sob. “So…s-so Sans, he--he did the only thing...th-that we _could_ do.”

“...What did you two do?” Wingdings asked. He was so preoccupied with what was going on, he didn’t even think to sign.

A full minute passed in silence, Alphys struggling to gather herself.

Then—

“We d--we dropped the balcony above the Core, and...let them all fall in. Got the hell outta there--God, we were both a b-blubbering mess by the time w-we got out of the Core and o-outside...” Alphys put her head in her hands, wheezing. “...When we went back inside, everything was...fine. No explosion--no team. A-And no record of the both of you. Like...like _all_ of you. Just...vanished. Only Sans and I re-remembered, but...we couldn’t tell anybody.”

Aster and Dings looked at each other, eyes wide. Neither of them said anything.

“Don’t…” Alphys turned around, wiping her tears away. “Don’t...t-tell the others about that, o-okay? I know...y-you two were gone by then, but. _Please_. I can’t let them know...know that Sans and I i-intentionally...that we...we actually _ki--_ ”

“We won’t.”

Dings gave his brother an incredulous look, shocked.

“We _won’t_ ,” Aster repeated, sighing. “Just...can we get this over with?”

Alphys nodded, sniffing, picking back up the charts. Her hands shook, but not as bad as before. She’d be fine.

“R-Right,” she said. “Let’s get started.”


	8. The Past Isn't Just the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> run smols runnn
> 
> also can we just talk about how great dings is at dragging people in the most blunt way

They had no idea how long they sat in that room; staring at the ceiling, out the window, at the clutter of papers on the floor and desk. Just that they’d been for too long. They’d spent so long, waiting for Alphys to return, worrying themselves almost sick over what results she might bring back. If she even got any worth noting to begin with.

The time ticked on, but Alphys wasn’t anywhere to be found. Waiting for everything to finalize, they assumed.

“This is ridiculous,” Wingdings said, breaking through the thick curtain of silence that’d fallen over the room not long after the doctor had left. He leaned back on the bed, glaring at the ceiling. “If _we_ were the ones handling the readings, we’d have been done ages ago.”

“You know Alphys is slower than us, Dings,” Aster sighed, nudging the window sill with his foot idly, lying on the floor. “Y’know, child prodigies and all--nobody from our age group could match.”

“The generations after ours were worse.”

“ _Dings!_ ”

The older of the two just shrugged. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

“ _No_! ...Well, maybe--okay, you’re right. But you’re doing that thing where you offend people who are dumber than you--you’re not _supposed_ to do that!”

“What? You said it yourself--nobody else could compare to us. _Childhood prodigies_.” Dings said the last sentence with a particular bite to his words, frowning to himself.

“Yeah, and like I said--they couldn’t match even if they wanted to.” Aster huffed, crossing his arms. “Seriously, sometimes I wonder if you’re just--I dunno--egotistical.”

“...You did _not_.”

“Well, I’m just _saying_!”

Dings sprung over to the other side of the bed, staring down at his brother, who shrugged. “I am _not_ egotistical.”

“Are you sure about that, bro? _Are_ you?”

A shadow crossed across Wingdings’ face, raising a fist—

\--Just as Alphys walked through the door.

“O-Okay, I have th-the charts--o-oh my God, _no_.”

The twins froze--Dings with his fist raised, Aster with his arms raised above his head. They both stared wide eyed at the royal scientist, trying to find words, but none came to mind.

One beat of silence, two, and Alphys snapped into action. In one swift movement, she dropped the charts and papers from her machines down on her desk and pulled Dings away from the younger brother, yelling, “ _Why can’t you two just. Behave yourselves? For ten minutes?_ ”

Had it really only been that long? No--couldn’t have been.

“Sorry,” they apologized in unison, glancing at the stack of papers.

Alphys sighed, following their gazes. “...A-Ah. Right…” She picked up the top chart, looking it over, before turning to them. “I-I, uh, compared your readings to Sans and P-Papyrus, and, ah…”

“...And?” Aster echoed, frowning.

“A-And...well…” Alphys’ hands shook as she read the data. “Y-You’re magic levels aren’t exact, but...there’s definitely traces. At most, you could be considered related to them.”

“Related to the experiments?” Dings sounded faint at the very idea.

“That’s kinda cool, when you say it out loud like that.” Aster jumped up, grinning at his brother. “Think about it--us, related to _skeletons_? I mean, who woulda thunk it!”

Aster bounced, and Dings, in turn, shook his head. “It’s not ‘ _cool,_ ’” he reprimanded, climbing off of the bed. He began to pace, losing himself to one of his many rants, “it’s _terrifying_. The experiments were supposed to be their own beings--not a part of _us_ , not a part of our _family tree_. For us to be ‘related’ to those things, the implications would be...disastrous.”

Aster blinked. He hummed, thinking it over, shrugging. “Still pretty cool, bro.”

“I’m gonna slap you.”

“Gaster, _please_!”

Both of them reared their heads around to stare at her, Alphys immediately turning a dark shade of red.

“...A-Ah…” She bowed her head, shuffling a few feet away from them. “S-Sorry, I...didn’t mean to c-call you that. Heheh.”

The twins shared a glance. “Well,” Wingdings said, “we _are_ him. Or... _he_ is _us_? I dunno--how would that work?”

“I think it’s more like we made him up and pretend to be him.” Aster made a decisive nod as he spoke. “...Yeah. Yeah, so, we’re him. Kind of.”

“I-It really doesn’t matter,” Alphys started, but the door opened, revealing an annoyed-looking Undyne--which wasn’t really a surprise, considering Undyne never looked happy when the twins were around. “ _Ah_! U-Undyne--what’re you doing here? I-I thought you were doing b-business w-w-with Asgore?”

“Yeah, well,” Undyne huffed, turning to the twins, her eyes burning with a promise for revenge. They both shrunk on sight, knowing full well what this was about. “Still am.”

Sins crawled up the boys’ backs.

“O-Oh?” Alphys whipped her head around to look at either of them, eyebrows furrowed together. “D-Does it have something to do with them?”

Undyne nodded, once. Authoritative. “Yes.” Her tone fell flat.

The former royal scientists paled, turning three shades lighter than their usual grey. Alphys herself looked unaware of the heavy tension in the room, looking between Undyne and the twins but unable to figure out what was wrong.

“O-Oh, uh...alright! Oh, and, um, I have those charts--”

“Later, Alphy.”

“B-But--”

Undyne leaned forward, pulling Alphys closer to shut her up with a kiss. Whatever train of thought that been racing through Alphys’ head came to an abrupt stop.

The dusty shade of red that had spotted Alphys’ cheeks turned an even darker crimson, spreading across her whole face--startled as she processed the situation. All she could do was stand and return Undyne’s passion, mind blank.

Aster and Dings, on the other hand, exchanged a look and a pair of devious smiles. “I didn’t know you could kiss like that,” Dings snorted.

“Yeah! You’ve been holdin’ out on us, Alph--”

“Oh, would you two _shut up_.” Undyne pulled away long enough to snap at them, before turning back to Alphys. “I’ll be back in about an hour.”

Alphys looked down, searching for some kind of response as she rubbed her arm. “A-Alright,” she said, reaching forward to caress Undyne’s arm, “S-See you later.”

“You bet!” Undyne gave her a sharp-toothed grin, though it fell the moment her eyes fell on the twins. “A’ight you lil’ troublemakers--you’re coming with me.”

The fear from before rushed back fast, a dark mood settling with it. “Yes, ma’am.”

Undyne gestured for them to follow her out of the room, Dings getting up without protest before the cold look in her eye could burn down on him.

Aster, not so much--she had to practically drag him out of the room, kicking and screaming all the while.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, _I’m sorry_ \--”

“Come on, you--”

When the door shut, Alphys let out a groan, collapsing into her chair. “...When w-will the universe give all of us a b-break?” She wondered.

 

***

 

Standing in front of Alphys’ house-lab amalgamation, Undyne held Aster out at arm’s length, steel grip holding onto the collar of his sweater, letting him wear himself out. “Keep swingin’, punk,” she told him, a bitter grin in place. “Seems you two are great at that, huh?”

‘ _We had our reasons,_ ’ Wingdings tried to explain, but to no avail.

Aster spun in Undyne’s grasp, panting, but not out of steam yet. “Look, we’re _sorry_ , okay?” He spat, earning a dangerous look in response. “We were just trying to figure out some things.”

“And that involved threatening the life of our king--of _my father_ \--and tricking a royal guardsman?” Undyne growled, glaring between the two.

The boys looked away, silent.

“I thought so.” Undyne shook her head, tucking Aster underneath her arm, letting his arms and legs dangle at her side.

“ _Hey--_ ” He tried to protest, but the look she gave him shut him up quick. That look promised death.

“Here’s the deal--Fluffybuns let you two off easy, because you’re just kids and you didn’t _actually_ do anything, but I’m not so lenient. So--you two, me. Training. Chores. Whatever odd jobs neighbors want you kids to do. The whole nine works--I will make you work until you wish you’d never been _born_. Do I make myself clear?”

Aster and Dings nodded, their expressions falling. Still, the look they shared when she wasn’t looking proved they didn’t regret a thing.

“Good.” Undyne started forward, the boys following suit. “First order of business--Asgore gave me a list of chores he wanted me to do around town. You two are gonna be doing them for me--I’ll be watching to make sure you do them. Ya hear me?”

Again, they nodded.

“ _Good_.” Undyne set Aster down, still holding onto his sweater. It didn’t matter--he wasn’t fighting much anymore. “Now, when I say ‘go,’ you run down the block and take a right. Stop once you reach the end of that block, and wait for me to give you the next direction. Got it?”

Another nod.

“Good. _Go_!”

She let go of the smaller twin’s sweater as the older shot forward, Aster groaning in response.

“Wait for me, you cheater!”

“I’m not going to wait for you with _her_ staring--”

Undyne sighed, already marking her “brilliant plan” as yet another regret in her life, having lost the authority she’d held over them the moment they ran off. “Great. Time to play babysitter,” she grumbled, running after them.

As they ran, two shadows watched from the sidelines, gargled noises passing between them--almost like a conversation, but not quite.

Static briefly passed between the two figures before they were off, following after the two brothers. A phrase, though unspoken, followed suit:

“ ** _We won’t be forgotten_**.”


	9. This Feels Vaguely Familiar to You, Somehow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hi this is my favorite chapter in this part

“...Hey! Quit shovin’!”

“I am _not_ shoving! If you weren’t bumping into me every other step, I wouldn’t have to elbow you!”

“Ow-- _Undyne!_ Tell Dingus here to stop!”

“Tell _Aster_ to stop stepping on my toes!”

Undyne groaned, shouting, “Can’t you two twerps just _behave_ yourselves for at least _one minute?_ ”

People on the streets watched the trio pass, confused but unable to deny the smiles on their faces. Although they weren’t sure who the two children were, they recognized Undyne’s voice clear as day--after all, it was hard to mistake a voice you heard every day. Still, everyone couldn’t help but notice how the two skeleton brothers weren’t there with her, leaving a glaring void in the otherwise familiar scene. A wave of muttering and stares met the three monsters as they walked by, caught up an unsettling sense of deja vu no bystander could shake.

Aster and Wingdings quieted down under all the attention.

“Why’s everyone looking at us?” Aster asked, turning to Undyne for an answer.

‘ _It could be because we were shouting,_ ’ Wingdings offered, though he had this sinking feeling that he was wrong. But what else could it be? It couldn’t have anything to do with the skeletons, right? It wasn’t like their experiments were anything special; their absence should have gone unnoticed.

“Probably,” Undyne muttered, snapping back to attention when they approached a worn down shop. She turned to face the boys, grabbing a hold of their wrists. “Alright, you two--we’re heading to Gerson’s. And let’s be clear on something, okay? Don’t, and I repeat: Do not. Touch. _Anything_. Capiche?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the boys said, sharing a look when the fish woman wasn’t paying any attention.

When they looked away, Aster dropped the arm he’d been hold up behind his back, uncrossing his fingers. Funny--nobody seemed to notice.

“Glad we’ve come to an understanding,” Undyne let out a sigh of relief, her usual upbeat tone back in place. “Now--it’s time to shop!”

The twins groaned in unison, following close behind.

 

***

 

Lying back in the chair behind the counter, eyes half-lidded and worn down by a permanent weariness, Gerson found himself thinking that maybe business being this slow wasn’t such a bad thing after all. Sure, he wasn’t making as much as he used to, but he didn’t mind; he still made enough to get by, he supposed. That and, every now and again he could catch a nap while the shop laid empty in front of him, and it wasn’t like he needed to worry about being robbed--no lowlife would want his junk, he was sure of that.

Resting as he was at that moment, he relaxed into the silence, a warmth following the calm aura of the shop--

_Ding, ding!_

_BANG!_

The door slammed open, bouncing against the wall and startling the old turtle awake. A red-headed fish monster stood in the door, accompanied by two youngins Gerson couldn’t yet recognize, in his fuzzy state of mind.

“Gerson!” Undyne boomed, sprinting over to the counter and slamming her hands down on the counter. “I need some junk! Ya got what I’m looking for?”

Gerson sat up in his chair, yawning, adjusting his glasses with a chuckle. “Hello, Undyne,” he greeted, noticing the two children with her. He raised his eyebrows, genuine curiosity spreading across his face, “Why, who might these two be?” he asked.

Undyne narrowed her eyes at the two boys, frowning. “Who, them?” She muttered, jabbing a finger at the twins. At Gerson’s nod, she sighed. “Introduce yourselves, punks. And make it quick.”

Aster and Wingdings shared a look, unsure of what to do. One wrong move and the two of them could end up in serious trouble—even more so than they were already.

Still, the younger of the two shrugged, hopping up to the counter and grinning at the old turtle. “Hey, old man,” he said, waving, “I’m Aster. My brother’s Dingus.”

“Hey!” Wingdings glared, hands on his hips. Summoning his hands to sign along, he told the shopkeeper, “It’s Wingdings. Ignore my brother, he’s intolerable.”

Aster waved a hand, dismissive. “You love me.”

“Shut up.”

Gerson laughed, his hand flying up to hold his forehead. Ah, the younger generations…he had to remind himself that they were just as much a blessing as they were a curse.

“Well, I sure am glad to meetcha both.” He hummed, leaning back in his chair, inquiring the fish monster. “Now—what d’ya need from me, hm?”

Undyne gave the twins an exasperated look, sighing, before she shoved her hand into her pocket, pulling out a list and slamming it on the counter. “This, if it’s possible,” she said, smiling a toothy grin.

From behind her, the twins stared at each other in mute shock, shaking where they stood. Not so much because they were afraid, no, but because of all the noise and commotion.

Slowly, so as not to be seen, they took a step back--no reaction. They took another step, and another...pretty soon, they were on the other side of the store.

The two adults were unaware of their missing persons, too caught up in their conversation to notice the change.

“Phew,” Aster took a glance around one of the make-shift aisles, before ducking back around to stay out of sight. “Okay, lesson learned--don’t get on Undyne’s bad side.”

“Noted,” Wingdings huffed, looking at the contents on one of the shelves. “Do you think we’ll be able to talk our way out of this one?”

“Ah…” The younger brother shook his head, looking around. “Probably not...but, uh, that’s fine, I guess.”

“You guess? What do you mean, you _guess_? She looked ready to _kill_ us earlier.”

Aster chuckled, ushering the older of the two into silence. “Shh. She’ll hear us bickerin’ and come looking.”

“ _Bickering_?”

“ _Shh_.”

Wingdings opened his mouth, then closed it, biting his tongue. As much as he hated to admit it--and thankfully, he didn’t have to--his brother was right. “...So, what do we do now?” He asked.

“I’unno.”

The twins exchanged a glance, a silent agreement made between them as they risked another look up front, looking for the two adults. Still talking, blissfully distracted. Neither of them seemed to notice the absence of the twins.

Pulling back, Aster turned to his brother, grin in place. “Wanna go explore and touch some stuff?”

“Didn’t we _just_ promise Undyne we wouldn’t?” Wingdings frowned, crossing his arms and tilting his head, trying to look as dubious as he could manage.

“Did we?” Aster’s smile widened.

“...You crossed your fingers, didn’t you.”

“Don’t act like you _didn’t_.”

Wingdings sighed, rolling his eyes. Still, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. “...Y’know, after all of this, I’m still the mature twin.”

“Whatever helps ya sleep at night,” Aster shrugged, walking around him and looking at the shelves.

“...But it’s true!”

“Uh-huh. Sure it is.”

“...Still, I’m a little surprised at Asgore,” Undyne said, tucking loose strands of hair behind her earfin. “I mean, sure, he’s a big softy when you get right down to it--but I mean, shit, those two kids didn’t deserve to be let off that easy. That little shit threatened his life, and yet he’s already forgiven them--”

She snapped her fingers, other hand gesturing wildly in the air as she did so.

“--just like _that_! It’s ridiculous!”

“Wah-ha-ha,” Gerson laughed, shaking his head at the fish woman’s raw--however passionate--emotion. “Now I will agree, King Fluffybuns lets his heart decide for him instead of his head--but they _are_ kids. If I remember correctly, a certain someone used to be quite the lil’ scamp herself, declaring that she’d fight anyone who’d get in her way--but I wonder, who could _that_ have been, hm?”

Undyne’s eye twitched at the smug expression the old turtle had. “Oh, shut it, you,” she huffed, turning away. For a split second, she noticed something was off--but dismissed the feeling as quick as it’d come, turning back to the conversation, saying, “...I guess they do have some spunk in ’em...it’s almost admirable, really. But that doesn’t excuse what they did.”

Gerson hummed, leaning forward. “Didn’t you once demand a fight out of Asgore? How exactly did you earn that training he gave you, huh?”

“...Well…”

Unbeknownst to the two adults, Aster caught sight of something resting on the top shelf on one of the display cases--something blue and glowing.

“Hey, Dings,” he turned to his brother, pointing at the object in question. “ _Hand_ me a lift?”

Wingdings glared. “Pun,” he sighed, but manifested his magic anyway.

Two hands--cavernous holes cut through the palms--appeared as Aster’s footfall, and the smaller of the two took it, reaching up…

“...They don’t seem all that bad, Undyne,” Gerson chuckled, his laughter falling short when he noticed the two children in question were missing. “Speakin’ of those two whippersnappers, where are they?”

“Eh?” Undyne turned around, thrown into a frenzy the moment she found them gone. “Aster? Wingdings?”

No response.

The shocked expression on the fish woman’s face twisted into anger.

“ _Hey, punks! Get your asses over here!_ ”

The shout shook the whole store--and the hands supporting the small goop monster.

Before he could catch himself, Aster fell, the blue object falling to the ground with him.

It hit the ground—

_BOOM!_

\--and _exploded_.

The whole shop, for the second time that month, was turned a glowing, gooey blue.

For a moment, silence stretched across the shop, Aster and Wingdings standing in a daze, exposed and guilty, apt horror written on either of their faces.

And then, the silence shattered under a roaring cry.

“ _You little brats!_ ”

“Ahh go, go, _go--_ ”

Aster didn’t waste any time; spontaneous as he was, he grabbed his brother, picked him up, and ran out of the shop, screaming at the top of his lungs.

Wingdings fared no better, but for a different reason--beating on the younger brother’s back with balled fists, he shouted, “You idiot, put me _down_! We can’t just _run off_! Why’d you even go after that blue thing in the _first_ place?”

“ _Shut up, Dings!_ ”

“ _No! You’re just making everything worse!_ ”

They ran down one street, around a bend, another street, across to another block--Undyne hot on their heels.

“I _swear_ , when I’m through with you--”

“Forget what I said--Aster, _run faster!_ ”

“ _I’m running as fast as I can!_ ”

Back at Gerson’s shop, the old turtle sat behind his counter, stunned into silence. With a ringing in his ears and the forgotten list in front of him, he sighed, leaning forward and resting his chin in his hand. He found himself reflecting on how a small human had caused similar mischief in Waterfall while visiting him, and a small fish girl before them.

“...What’s an old monster like me supposed to do when it comes to the youngin of this day an’ age?” He asked himself.

Still, he smiled, finding the whole thing too silly and ridiculous not to. Keeping his calm, he laughed away his frustration, dusting himself off as he stood.

Might as well clean up the mess they left behind.

 

***

 

Down a few blocks and failing to catch their breaths, Aster and Wingdings found themselves hiding behind a dumpster, doubled over and wheezing.

“...Bad idea,” Aster huffed. “Bad...bad idea…”

“Oh...really?” Wingdings coughed, falling down on his behind as his breathing started to even itself out again. “You...you really think so...huh?”

“Sh...Shut up.”

Licking the sweat from his lips, Wingdings shot his brother a look. “Y...Y’know,” he said, “she’s gonna...she’s gonna _kill_ us...when she finds us.”

“Shhh...don’t--don’t jinx it…”

“No...no jinxing invo...lved...it’s fact.”

Aster let out a long breath, allowing for a pause. “...Not if I can help it.”

“What’re you gonna do...huh? Throw one of those...weird blue things...at her?”

Despite being breathless, they both laughed at that.

“...God, we’re stupid,” Aster sighed. “How...how were we _ever_...the Royal Scientist?”

“We aren’t stupid,” Wingdings said, frowning. “We just...do dumb things.”

Aster chuckled, getting his breathing back under control. “Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Well, no...you can still be smart, but not wise.”

“Huh. Sounds like you,” Aster snorted.

Wingdings’ eyes widened, appalled. “You mean sounds like _you_.”

“Okay, yeah, it _does_ sound like me...but it’s mostly you.”

“ _Ugh_ , you’re unbelievable.”

“You know you love me, bro.”

Wingdings frowned, the smile playing on his brother’s face dropping as the silence between them grew and grew.

“...Right?” Aster asked.

“...We should go home.”

Aster’s eyebrows screwed together. “You really...you’re really not gonna say it, are you?”

The older twin stood, brushing himself.

“You’re not serious, bro--”

“Come on.”

“Dings, seriously, are you _that_ self-centered? It’s just three words!”

“Aster.” Wingdings shot his brother a look from over his shoulder, his stern, cold facade back in place. “Drop it.”

“I will when you admit you actually care about someone other than yourself!” Aster said, stomping his foot. “Bro, _seriously_ \--just say ’em, okay? ‘I love you’--it’s not that hard!”

Wingdings opened his mouth, faltering as he took in his brother’s hurt expression--however, his attention was directed elsewhere as he saw something shift behind his brother.

And the _thing_ he saw that was looking right at him…

Wingdings froze, mouth parted slightly and eyes wide, face growing paler by the second. “Aster. Don’t. Move.”

Aster’s anger melted into brief confusion, before returning full-force. “Don’t you start pulling that shit with me now! This is serious business! Twin-to-twin stuff--”

“Aster, _please_. Stop.” Wingdings held out a hand, as if in a peaceful gesture--only confusing the younger twin more. “Just stay still, okay?” the older whispered, backing away from him. “Stay calm, and _still…_ ”

Aster studied his brother, up and down, frowning to himself. “...What the hell are you doing.”

“ _Shh!_ ”

“What’re you even looking--”

Aster hesitated a moment before he turned on his heels, coming face-to-face with a tall, shadowy figure.

Now it was his turn to pale. “...Oh.”

The shadow seemed to take note of him, tilting what Aster could only assume to be its head.

The color drained from Wingdings’ face, fear draining any feeling from his limbs, leaving him cold and numb. One goal in mind, he shot forward, panic drowning out the static in his voice as he shouted, “Aster, _look out_ \--”

He pushed Aster out of the way, only to end up exactly where the shadow wanted him to be--within reach.

“ _Dings!_ ”

Pressing himself into the wall of the building behind him, Aster couldn’t hold back his screaming as he watched his brother be engulfed by the shadow being, frozen in place. Wingdings’ eyes blipped into snowy static, and he choked, standing still. The younger brother gagged at the sight of black... _something_ pouring from his brother’s mouth, before Dings collapsed, convulsing and choking on the black, oily substance that began to pool around him.

“ _Wingdings!_ ”

Aster raced to his side, grabbing ahold of the front of his sweater and shaking him. He tried to keep his head straight, called for help--but nothing worked.

Nobody came.

It didn’t take long for him to start hyperventilating. His vision growing dim, head feeling light, like it were filled with cotton. Aster stumbled back, clawing at his skull, trying to think--think, think, think, Aster, _think_! What could he _do_?

Chest burning, he found it harder and harder to breathe…

He pushed himself up on his feet, spinning around to try and run out to the street, to find someone, _anyone_ \--Hell, even _Undyne_ would be fine--to help, but instead was met with a smaller shadowy figure, seeming to be waiting for him to notice it.

He let out a pitiful wheeze as it grabbed a hold of him and threw him against the wall, his head connecting with the hard, stone brick…

And after the impact, he knew of nothing but static.


	10. PEEK-A-BOO

_He couldn’t breathe._

_Darkness blocked out his vision, leaving him blind to whatever surrounded him. He could feel hands (or were they claws?) grabbing his arms, his legs, reaching into his chest and through his head, pulling and tugging him in every possible direction. Garbled words fell on deaf ears as he tried to pull himself free—really, he did—but the more he tried—_

Ping!

_\--something pulled him back._

_“H e l p,” his voice--or someone else’s--echoed in the murky black. “H e l p…”_

_As the voice faded, the realization dawned on him that no, that wasn’t his voice, because he hadn’t opened his mouth--he couldn’t even breathe right._

_No, the voice wasn’t his, but his brother’s._

_He became frantic. He struggled, choked on the disgusting, chalky mass filling his mouth, spitting and biting and_ screaming _—_

_But nobody heard him._

_He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t feel; something heavy and cold washing over him, pulling him apart at the seams, at his soul—_

“ _No!_ ”

Wingdings sat up in the snow, gasping for air. Slowly, his vision cleared, chest heaving as he gasped for air.

He was fine. He was—

...sitting in _snow_?

“What the…” Dings looked around, confirming his fears. Snow piled around him, falling from the black sky above him. An occasional snowflake glitched and sputtered in front of him, to his surprise, but fell on its usual path as though nothing were wrong.

Wingdings couldn’t comprehend it. _There wasn’t snow a few minutes ago,_ he thought. _Besides, Frisk had said it only snowed in the winter--it’s not wintertime, is it?_

Frowning, he turned to say something to Aster—

\--who wasn’t there.

“Aster?” Dings climbed to his feet at once, stumbling for a moment. His head felt like it was filled with cotton. “Aster, where’d you go?”

Silence.

Wingdings tapped his thumbs together, taking a couple steps forward--and jumped when a sign suddenly appeared in front of him.

“ _Ah_!”

Falling back, snow flying up in the air upon impact, he fell into a pile of fresh snow, glaring at the black display above him. The snow settled back down around him, in its own, malfunctioning way.

Wingdings groaned, pulling himself back up. The sign, he realized, wasn’t there anymore. _What…_

Standing, he took a step forward.

Fizzing specs of white, grey and black popped into existence, before falling away into the sign.

“...Whoa.”

Stepping closer, he brushed a hand across the smudged text, squinting to read the faded letters: SNOWDIN TOWN.

“Snowdin…” _How’d I end up Underground?_ He wondered.

Sighing, he turned away from the sign, taking a few steps to the right. A path--one he recognized from his rare visits to the town Inn--opened up in front of him, respectively.

“This is weird,” he mumbled to himself, shaking his head. He looked around him, squinting through the haze as snow crunched underfoot. “...Aster? Aster, are you around?”

Still, nothing.

 _I’ll kill him later,_ he decided.

Frowning, however hesitant, he moved on, heading into the small town ahead.

Buildings cropped up as he passed, flowers bloomed, white bulbs sprouted from the places where people once stood--all manifesting in a blink of an eye. None of it was right--all felt off, _wrong_ , in some way. The usual friendly nature of Snowdin had turned dark and foreign. Empty, almost.

He felt threatened, walking through the place.

As he neared a particular house different from the rest, Wingdings faltered.

Christmas lights hung from the snow-tiled roof, lights flickering weakly in the dark. A yellowish glow from within failed to outmatch the thick layers of dust and snow covering the windows, and the sagging wood of the house distorted the framing of the glass in such a way, he couldn’t get a good look inside.

Uneasiness took hold as he studied the house. Distracted, he failed to notice the creeping sensation of something wrapping itself around his neck--that is, until it pressed down on his throat.

Frozen, he closed his eyes and bit his lip. He felt tremors run down his arms, up his spine.

 _It’s alright,_ he told himself. _You’re fine…_

Reaching up, he touched the foreign fabric.

A scarf.

Pulling it off, he inspected the cloth, feeling the red wool underneath his fingers. The end of it was torn and darker than the rest--patched up, maybe, some time ago. Thick and warm, he turned it over, reading the words sewn into the back:

_to papyrus--happy b-day, bro._

He blinked, reading it again. “Papyrus…”

Wingdings dropped the scarf as though it had bitten him, not bothering to pick it back out of the snow.

Something twisted in his gut, every cell in his body warning him about some sort of forthcoming. He could barely keep his hands steady.

“...Aster,” he called again, though this time his voice came out as a whisper. He couldn’t breathe again, throat tightening on the spot, but not because of some nightmare. Unless reality counted as one. If that was the case, then he could definitely pin his hyperventilating on a living nightmare.

“ _Aster_ ,” he repeated, shoes crunching in the snow. Funny, he didn’t even feel the slightest bit of cold; yet another thing wrong with this place. “Brother? Brother, where are you?”

Two figures appeared in front of him, forcing him to a halt. Merely white blobs of nothing at first, he didn’t think much of them until they twisted into actual people.

People he recognized.

Frisk he noticed right away--messy hair, ripped purple-and-pink sweater, snow covered boots. Their hands and clothes were covered in dust, a knife held firmly in their hands. A strange, eerie smile stretched across their face, eyes glinting with a lust for _power_ , they reminded him briefly of someone he once knew.

He felt sins crawling on his back.

The other person, wearing what looked to be makeshift armor and a familiar-looking red scarf, stood with his arms outstretched and a warm, albeit nervous, smile on his face.

 _Papyrus,_ he thought, eyes wide.

He couldn’t believe it, at first. The failed experiment, standing right in front of him, alive and _breathing_. It felt surreal.

Nothing seemed to be happening--the people in front of him frozen in time.

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Wingdings walked forward, reaching out—

A familiar weight blanketed his neck and shoulders.

He stood in front of Frisk, blinking and disoriented.

He couldn’t move.

_What—_

“ _Human!_ ”

He jolted at the word--at the _voice_. It sounded so theatrical, so upbeat and optimistic, so _unlike his own_. And yet, it sounded like...it’d come from him.

Eyes widening, he started to shake, breathing uneven and panicked. _What’s going_ on _?_ He asked, to nobody in particular.

The Frisk in front of him smiled wider, stepping forward, knife held at the ready. They remained silent, head twitching unnaturally; once, twice, three times in the short time he’d been looking at them.

_What’s wrong with them?_

“Hey, quit moving while I’m talking to you!” That voice--Papyrus--said, exasperated. “I have some things to say to you!”

Frisk paused, shoulders shaking and their foot tapping from the effort of staying still.

If only Wingdings could _move_ …

“First and foremost--you’re a freakin’ _weirdo_!” he huffed, before continuing, “the way you shamble about from place to place...how your hands are always covered in dusty powder…”

 _What am I_ doing _?_ Dings found himself wondering. Move _!_

“...it...feels like you are going down a dangerous path. However,” his foot moved forward against his will, “worry not! I, Papyrus, wish to help you become who you are truly meant to be: kind, gentle, great. I can help you be all of those things--especially the last one.”

Frisk’s smile faltered, for a moment. They tilted their head, expression curious.

“I...I promise to be your friend and tutor, and make you better than you ever thought you could be!”

The smile returned.

Wingdings felt himself tearing up, a shiver running down his spine as the scene unfolded before him. _Stop talking!_ He wanted to shout, _get out of the way! They’ll kill m--they’ll kill us both!_

But no words that came out of his mouth were his own.

Frisk advanced, only a few feet away and knife held high in the air.

Still, he stayed grounded, holding his head high. “I-I see you are approaching,” he sputtered, voice wavering--and that was when Dings realized that he knew, Papyrus knew this could be the end and here he was, “well, h-human--I welcome you with open arms!”

He was forced to spread his arms out, forced to put on a smile--

 

**_42062_ **

 

Everything faded to black. Wingdings fell back into the open air, screaming in spite of himself. He managed to catch himself before he hit the ground, stumbling a few feet away, hands hovering over his throat.

 “No, no, _no--_ ”

Tears ran down his face. His body shook beyond control, sobs wracking his form as he curled up on himself.

He stood, alone, in a mass black of nothingness.

Static rang in his ears.

“I can’t,” he said, after a while, sniffling profusely, “I can’t _take_ this…I-I--I want to go _home_.”

And yet, the scarf wrapped around his neck was proof enough--he would never truly be free of this place.

Unable to keep himself standing much longer, he sat down, pulling his knees up to his chest, hugging them close. For once, he didn’t feel any shame for crying.

“Aster…”

 _Where_ are _you?_

 

***

 

“...Dings?”

Surrounded by the sound of rushing water and static, Aster walked across a creaky, old bridge, shivering. The marsh bit at his flesh with an icy cold sting that didn’t match up with his surroundings, an uneasy breath leaving his lungs and hanging in the air in front of him. _This place is so_ weird _,_ he thought. _How the hell does it look so much like the Underground?_

He stopped when something crunched underneath his foot--a bridge flower. He heaved a sigh, crossing his arms. “A puzzle?” he asked. “Here?”

Apparently.

Groaning, he squinted through the darkness, trying to see where he could send the flowers across. He found nothing of help.

“Great,” he muttered, “now I’m lost, alone, _and_ I have no idea where to go--brilliant, Aster. Just _brilliant_.”

He picked up the flower, blindly heading in the direction of the rushing water.

He came across a strip of water and threw the flower in, expression twisting into something one could only describe as impatient. “Come on, come _on_ …I need to find that _idiot_ before he gets himself killed…”

 _Hopefully, he’s smart enough not to let that happen,_ he tried to reassure himself.

He stumbled until he found the other three bridge flowers, throwing them to the first and walking across.

The room he found beyond...he thought to be familiar. But as to why it felt familiar, he couldn’t quite place, considering he’d never been there before.

A single bench sat in the middle, looking out of place compared to the greyish water beyond. An Echo flower rested in the corner of the room, emitting nothing but a soft undertone of static. Always with the static.

God, he hated this place so _much_.

Aster walked over to the bench, hesitant. _This is it?_ he thought. _This is really_ it _?_

Frowning to himself, he sat down—

\--and something appeared in the empty space next to him.

“ _Ghh--_ ” He jumped and gripped the side of the bench, doing his best to shrink away from the shadowy figure. “Oh...oh, jeez, I’m _not_ used to the whole ‘things popping up at random intervals’ thing yet…”

The shadow next to him remained silent, staring out over the water.

Aster paused, relaxing a bit. “...Uh...do you, um, talk?”

No response.

“...Can you hear me?”

Nothing.

“...Great…” Aster sighed, leaning back into the bench. He stared up at the nothing above them, his brows scrunched together in thought. “...Where the hell _are_ ya, Dings?”

He didn’t receive an answer, of course--he hadn’t expected one. Still, he didn’t know how long he’d spent waiting for an answer. It’d felt like forever.

A small movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he turned, frown melting away as curiosity took hold.

The Echo flower in the corner twitched--once, twice, thrice--a soft, inaudible whisper floating from its petals.

Glancing between it and the shadow sitting motionless on the bench, Aster crept off of the bench and walked around it to the flower, leaning closer.

“ _\--can’t--take this--_ ”

“ _\--where--_ ”

“ _\--Aster--_ ”

Aster jolted upright. “Dings?”

The Echo flower went silent.

“Bro, are you there?” Aster tugged at the petals of the flower, almost ripping one off.

Silence. Then—

\--a rush of hysterical sobbing flowed out.

Aster flinched. “Ahh, hold on, bro, I’ll find you--just--”

“ _Who are you?_ ”

Aster froze. It was a voice he’d never heard before.

The cold from before came rushing back tenfold, digging into his skin and whipping around him.

The air began to howl.

Again, the flower asked in that same, deep voice, “ _Who are you?_ ”

Aster looked around. The shadow was no longer there. “...Uh...me?”

“ ** _Who are you._** ” The question repeated itself, this time warped and harsh.

Aster jumped. “U-Um--D-Dr. W.D. Gaster. Who the hell are _you_?”

The flower didn’t respond.

“Hello? Dings? ...Creepy voice dude?”

Nothing.

Aster wrapped his arms around himself, shaking his head. “Whatever…”

_I’ll just find Wingdingus and—_

“ ** _You’re not the doctor._** ”

Aster yelped, coming face-to-face with the distorted image of the smaller skeleton.

Or, at least, he _thought_ it was him--though from the glitching and random specs of white noise scattered across his body, it was hard to say if it really _was_ the first skeletal experiment.

The skeleton looked him over, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. His words still came out in that warped, demented voice, one that grated at Aster’s soul. “ ** _What are you doing here?_** ”

Aster did nothing but stare.

“ **Answer me.** ” The skeleton’s form glitched back into the shadowy blob for a split second, hands balling into fists.

Aster whimpered, backing away from him. “I-I’m, uh...l-looking for my brother.” at that, the skeleton paused, seeming to calm down. “I-I don’t--I can’t find him. H-Have you seen him at all? He, uh--looks like me, just. Y’know. _Not_ me.”

The skeleton didn’t respond.

Aster’s fear faltered at the skeleton’s silence, a growing itch starting in his soul. “H _-Hello_?” He frowned, waving his arms in the air. “My brother is _missing_. Have you _seen_ him?”

The skeleton did nothing but stare at him--or maybe he stared through him. Aster couldn’t tell.

Breathing uneven, Aster reached forward, teeth bared, “Listen, _asshat_ \--”

His fist went through the other, and—

_Burns hurts scared alone where is he dark what is this place help help me papyrus where are you help it hurts burns broken scattered hello help HELP ME IT HURTS BURNS SCARED ALONE PAPYRUS H E L P_

\--he ripped his arm free, throwing up black tar the moment he turned away.

He didn’t know what to make of it. A thousand thoughts rushed through his mind, a disgusting feeling settling in his chest as the fragile image of the skeleton shattered and faded away.

Leaving him alone, tired, and afraid.

He clutched his head, breathing ragged. “Wh-What...what just…”

He couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t understand the awful feelings overwhelming him, couldn’t grasp the images that flashed before his eyes--good God, what _was_ this place?

The waterworks started, but he didn’t dare break down. He needed to get out of here--needed to find his brother, wherever he was.

Blinking the blurry images of Waterfall away, he shook his head and forced himself to breathe.

Focus. He needed to focus, now; he could freak out later.

Dropping his arms to his sides, he looked up from the ground to find the scene gone--drained into an oily black--freaking out a bit at the sudden change. He took a step forward, and another, before he broke into a sprint, praying to whatever God there was that he’d reach an end to this madness.

_I just need to find Dings…_

As he ran, he failed to notice how a blue hoodie had found its way around his shoulders, the familiar, subconscious weight reminding him of home.

He’d ask that skeleton how he got a hold of his mother’s hoodie another day.

 

***

 

Wingdings rubbed at his eyes, grunting about how childish he was being. _I can’t sit here and cry forever,_ he told himself. _Aster’s probably gotten himself in trouble by now…_

Standing, he brushed himself off and started walking, arms wrapped around his middle and eyes irritated and swollen from crying. What a _mess_ \--good thing nobody was around to see him like this…

He stumbled, his foot catching on something. He caught himself just before he fell flat, gritting his teeth as he hissed.

“What _now--_ ”

He froze when he turned around, eyes wide in horror.

A familiar, ghostly face stared down at him, a twisted smile set in place. It reached down, murmuring something that was drowned out by an ever-present static.

“ _No_ \--”

He lost his balance and fell, a scream slipping through his teeth before he bashed his head against the cold, hard ground. The world swam around him for a moment, vision blurred from tears.

One of his former colleagues climbed their way out from the darkness, jumbled words tumbling from their mouth in a heap of mindless noise: “ _Come and join the fun._ ”

He let out a yell and rolled onto his front, pushing himself up and running.

Hurried footsteps followed suit, echoing words and groans not too far behind. Other voices joined in--all of them, all of them voices of the past, of his _coworkers_ , from oh-so- _long_ ago--and he could feel fingers brush against the back of his sweater, against his arms, his wrists, grabbing at his legs and ankles.

He didn’t dare look back. All he cared about was getting _away_.

A hand finally managed to grip his foot, tripping him up. He smashed his face against the ground, vision growing dark and blurry for a moment, his head throbbing. He blinked away the daze, struggling to make his legs work. Tears stung his eyes as he realized he couldn’t move.

The voices grew louder, a chorus of echoing sound and static, getting louder and louder until they were _screaming_ at him. He wondered if his eardrums would shatter from the noise.

More hands grabbed onto him, pulling this way and that way, tearing into him in too many different directions. They got harsher and harsher, pulling harder and harder, and he let out a scream, a cry for help as fingers forced his jaws open and something foul poured into his mouth—

_WHOOSH._

A bright beam of light shot overhead, screaming barely heard underneath the familiar roar of a Gaster blaster. He spat out the gooey black substance out from his mouth, coughing.

Why hadn’t _he_ thought of using one of his blasters, or even his magic _at all_?

And then the realization dawned on him--if _he_ hadn’t used his blasters, then that meant…

He craned his neck, catching sight of the fading Gaster blaster floating above his head, and—

“Aster!”

His brother, hand raised with glowing purple magic, conjured hands to reach down and pry Dings free from their past friends’ grasp. They let out pitiful groans and hissed as their grip was released, falling back into the ground.

Aster pulled him to his feet, before slapping him in the head. “You dumbass! You couldn’t go two minutes without almost getting yourself killed?” He demanded. “And then you ask why I call you a dingus.”

Wingdings looked around them, holding up his hands, still shaking. “Can we talk later?” He asked.

Aster followed his gaze, his magic dissipating. He became painfully aware of the fact they weren’t alone. “...Yeah. Come on.”

The younger twin grabbed the other’s hand, running off at full speed.

“Where are we going?” Dings demanded between breaths.

“I dunno!”

Their pursuers were hot on their trail, even at their best speed. The twins knew that if they slowed down now, they’d be goners. And they could barely run as it was, having done so the whole time they’d been in this hellish place.

They skidded for a brief second to turn, hands grasping at their backs. “Come on, come _on_ ,” Aster grumbled through gritted teeth.

They spun on their heels and ran in another direction, catching a sliver of light.

“Is that...an exit?” Dings gasped.

“Why’re...you...askin’ me?”

Dings groaned and tugged on his brother’s arm, plowing through the thick cloud ahead of them. Aster sounded like he was dying, from his standpoint.

The chattering behind them picked up, becoming deafening, the footsteps behind them closing in with every step the brothers took. They forced themselves to move faster, made themselves take longer strides, but nothing seemed to shake the things chasing after them.

And the light they saw wasn’t getting any closer.

“Dings,” Aster let out a wheeze, shaking his head. “I can’t...keep up…”

“Aster, please--”

They bumped into something--or, some _one_ \--coming to a halt.

All at once, the chattering behind them fell away; the footsteps ceased.

Another layer of reality, met.

They bounced back, panting and coughing. Their clothes were drenched from sweat.

The room settled into an uneasy silence as the darkness faded into a murky grey, the twins doubled-over in front of the two skeleton brothers’ feet, huddled together, frozen from fear.

The silence quickly replaced itself with laughter.

“ ** _Found you._** ”


End file.
